George  Washington  Flowers 
Memorial  Collection 

DUKE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 


ESTABLISHED  BY  THE 
FAMILY  OF 

COLONEL  FLOWERS 


V\ 


^  :\.  ,^x• 


ELEMENTS 


OP 


RHETORIC 


BY 

RICHARD    WIIATELY,  D.  D., 


ARCHBISUOP  OF  DUBLIN. 


'0  yap  yvovg,  Kot  //?/  ao^wf  (^idd^ar,  iv  la(o  el  koI  [it/  heOvfirjOij. 

Thucydides. 


FROM  THE  LAST  ENLARGED  AND  REVISED  EDITION. 


SOUTIIEllN    METHODIST    PUBLISHING    HOUSE. 

1861. 


O  />  o_ 


NOTE. 


In  reproducing  this  great  work  in  the  present  form,  we  have  be- 
stowed much  care  upon  it,  that  it  might  be  free  from  the  numerous 
typographical  errors  which  disfigured  other  editions.  We  have  de- 
signed to  make  it  the  most  correct  and  beautiful  reprint  of  Archbishop 
Whately's  Elements  of  Rhetoric  issued  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

Thos.  0.  Summers. 
Nashville,  Tenn.,  Feb.  22,  1861. 


CONTENTS. 


i 


PAGE 

Preface v 

INTRODUCTION. 

Definitions  of  Rhetoric 1^ 

Histoi-y  of  llhctoric 20 

Assiduous  cultivation  of  Rhetoric  by  the  ancients 22 

Utility  of  rules  for  Composition 24 

Exercises  in  Composition 32 

Debating  Societies 36 

PART    I. 

OP   THE   ADDRESS   TO   THE    UNDERSTANDING,  WITH   A   VIEW 
TO   PRODUCE   CONVICTION,    (INCLUDING   INSTRUCTION.) 

Chap.  I.  Of  Propositions  to  be  maintained 44 

II.  Of  Arguments 48 

"1    • — -  III.  Of  the  various  use  and  order  of  the  several  kinds  of 

*  Propositions  and  of  Arguments  in  different  cases 106 

IV.  Of  Introductions 158 

PART    II. 

OP   THE   ADDRESS   TO    THE   WILL,  OR   PERSUASION. 

Chap.  I.  Introductory  considerations 164 

II.  Of  the  conduct  of  any  address  to  the  feelings  generally ..176 

III.  Of  the  favorable  or  unfavorable  disposition  of  the  Hear- 
ers or  Readers  towards  the  Speaker  or  Writer,  and 
his  opponent 188 

PART    III. 

OP   STYLE. 

Chap.  I.  Of  Perspicuity  of  Style 234 

11.  Of  Energy,  or  Vivacity  of  Style 249 

III.  Of  Elegance,  or  Beauty  of  Style 294 

(iii) 


41^6589 


iv  CONTENTS. 

PART   IV.    ' 

OP  ELOCUTION,  OR  DELIVERY. 

CuAr.  I.  General  considerations  relative  to  Elocution 304 

11.  The  Artificial  and  Natural  modes  of  Elocution  com- 
pared  311 

III.  Considerations  arising  from  the  differences  between 

Reading  and  Speaking 322 

lY.  Practical  Deductions  from  the  foregoing  views 337 

APPENDIX. 

CONTAINING   EXTRACTS   FROM   AUTHORS,    WITH   REMARKS. 

A.  Extracts  from  Bacon's  Rhetoric,  of  some  of  his  Antitheta..353 
AA.  Extract  from  the  Edinburgh  Review,  respecting  "Art"  in 

composition ,....362 

B.  Extract  from  the  Quarterly  Review,  respecting  the  "Na- 

tural" in  AVorks  of  Fiction 366 

C.  Extract  from  Lecture  V.  on  Political  Economy,  concerning 

the  currently-received  descriptions  of  the  origin  of 
civilized  Society , = 368 

D.  Grounds  of  men's  belief  in  the  genuineness  of  the  Sacred 

Scriptures,  from  Dr.  Hinds's  Treatise  on  Inspiration..371 
DD.  Reasons  for  believing  that  Savages  have  never  civilized   • 

themselves;  from  Political  Economy,  Lecture  V. 374 

DDD.  Extract  from  the  Edinburgh  Review,  on  German  Criminal 

Jurisprudence 382 

E.  On  Analogies;  from  Bishop  Copleston's  Discourses ..389 

F.  Instances  of  good  Illustrations ;  from  the  Edinburgh  Review..394 

G.  Extract  from  the  London  Review,  of  a  comparison  which 

is  both  argumentative  and  also  beautiful 399 

11.  Extract  from  Dr.  Campbell's  Rhetoric,  respecting  circum- 
stances that  tend  to  heighten  any  impression 401 

I.  Extract  from  Milmau's  Bampton  Lectures 405 

K.   Extract  from  Wolfe's  Sermons 408 

L.  On  unmeaning  expressions  escaping  detection ;  from  Dr. 

Campbell's  Rhetoric 410 

M.  Extract  from  Benson's  Hulsean  Lectures 415 

N.  Extract  from  Sheridan's  Art  of  Reading 416 

0.  On  leai-ning  by  rote;  from  London  Review,  1829 421 

GG.  Extract  from  Charge,  on  mistakes  relative  to  expediency.. .423 


PREFACE. 


A  BRIEF  outline  of  the  principal  part  of  the  following  work 
was  sketched  out  several  years  ago  for  the  private  use  of  some 
young  friends ;  and  from  that  MS.,  chiefly,  the  article 
"Rhetoric"  in  the  EncTjclopscdia  Mctropolitana  was  after- 
wards drawn  up.  I  was  induced  to  believe  that  it  might  be 
more  useful,  if  published  in  a  separate  form;  and  I  accord- 
ingly, with  the  assistance  of  some  friends,  revised  the  trea- 
tise, and  made  a  few  additions  and  other  alterations  which 
suggested  themselves ;  besides  dividing  it  in  a  manner  more 
convenient  for  reference. 

The  title  of  ''  Rhetoric,"  I  thought  it  best  on  the  whole  to 
retain,  bein^  that  by  which  the  article  in  the  Encyclopaedia 
is  designated ;  as  I  was  unwilling  to  lay  myself  open  to  the 
suspicion  of  wishing  to  pass  off  as  new,  on  the  strength  of  a 
new  name,  what  had  been  already  before  the  public.  But 
the  title  is,  in  some  respects,  open  to  objection.  Besides  that 
it  is  rather  the  more  commonly  employed  in  reference  to 
public  speaking  alone,  it  is  also  apt  to  suggest  to  many  minds 
an  associated  idea  of  empty  declamation,  or  of  dishonest  arti- 
fice ;  or,  at  best,  of  a  mere  dissertation  on  tropes  and  figures 
of  speech. 

The  subject,  indeed,  stands  perhaps  but  a  few  degrees 
above  logic  in  popular  estimation ;  the  one  being  generally 
regarded  by  the  vulgar  as  the  art  of  bewildering  the  learned 

(V) 


r^^-^ 


vi  PREFACE. 

by  frivolous  subtilties ;  the  other,  that  of  deluding  the  mul- 
titude by  specious  falsehood.  And  if  a  treatise  on  composi- 
tion be  itself  more  favorably  received  than  the  work  of  a 
logician,  the  author  of  it  must  yet  labor  under  still  greater 
disadvantages.  He  may  be  thought  to  challenge  criticism, 
and  his  own  performances  may  be  condemned  by  a  reference 
to  his  own  precepts ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  his  precepts  may 
be  undervalued,  through  his  own  failures  in  their  application. 
Should  this  take  place  in  the  present  instance,  I  have  only 
to  urge,  with  Horace  in  his  Art  of  Foetri/,  that  a  whetstone, 
though  itself  incapable  of  cutting,  is  yet  useful  in  sharpening 
steel.  No  system  of  instruction  will  xjompletely  equalize 
natural  powers ;  and  yet  it  may  be  of  service  towards  their 
improvement.  A  youthful  Achilles  may  acquire  skill  in 
hurling  the  javelin  under  the  instruction  of  a  Chiron,  though 
the  master  may  not  be  able  to  compete  with  the  pupil  in  vigor 
of  arm. 

As  for  any  display  of  florid  eloquence  and  oratorical  orna- 
ment, my  deficiency  in  which  is  likely  to  be  remarked,  it  may 
be  sufficient  to  observe,  that  if  I  had  intended  to  practice 
any  arts  of  this  kind,  I  should  have  been  the  less  likely  to 
treat  of  them.  To  develop  and  explain  the  principles  of  any 
kind  of  trick,  would  be  a  most  unwise  procedure  in  any  one 
who  purposes  to  employ  it,  though  perfectly  consistent  for 
one  whose  object  is  to  put  others  on  their  guard  against  it. 
The  juggler  is  the  last  person  that  would  let  the  spectators 
into  his  own  secret. 

It  has  been  truly  observed,  that  ^^  genius  begins  where 
rules  end."  But  to  infer  from  this,  as  some  seem  disposed 
to  do,  that  in  any  department  wherein  genius  can  be  displayed, 
rules  must  be  useless,  or  useless  to  those  who  possess  genius, 
is  a  very  rash  conclusion.  What  I  have  observed  elsewhere 
concerning  Logic,  that  "  a  knowledge  of  it  serves  to  save  a 
waste  of  ingenuity,"  holds  good  in  many  other  departments 


PREFACE.  Vii 

also.  In  travelling  through  a  country  partially  settled  and 
explored,  it  is  wise  to  make  use  of  charts,  and  of  high-roads 
with  direction-posts,  as  far  as  these  will  serve  our  purpose ; 
and  to  reserve  the  guidance  of  the  compass  or  the  stars  for 
places  where  we  have  no  other  helps.  In  like  manner,  we 
should  avail  ourselves  of  rules  as  far  as  we  can  receive  assist- 
ance from  them,  knowing  that  there  will  always  be  suJQicient 
scope  for  genius  in  points  for  which  no  rules  can  be  given. 

In  respect,  however,  of  such  matters  as  are  treated  of  here 
and  in  the  Elements  of  Loyic,  it  has  been  sometimes  main- 
tained, or  tacitly  assumed,  that  all  persons  accomplish  spon- 
taneously, and  all  equally  well,  every  thing  for  which  any  rules 
have  been,  or  can  be,  laid  down ;  and  that  the  whole  differ- 
ence between  better  and  worse  success  depends  entirely  on 
things  independent  of  instruction,  and  which  are  altogether 
the  gift  of  nature.  I  can  only  reply,  that  my  own  experience 
has  led  me  most  decidedly  to  an  opposite  conclusion  :  a  con- 
clusion which,  I  think,  is  also  established  by  several  of  the 
instances  given  in  this  and  in  the  other  treatise.  Persons 
not  wanting  in  ability,  or  in  knowledge  of  their  subject,  are 
frequently  found  either  to  have  flillen  into  some  fallacy,  or  to 
have  weakened  the  force  of  what  they  had  to  say,  or  laid 
themselves  open  to  misapprehension,  or  to  have  committed 
some  other  mistake,  from  which  an  attentive  study  of  the 
precepts  that  have  been  given  might  have  saved  them.  There 
is  HARDLY  A  SINGLE  PRECEPT  in  the  Elements  of  Logic,  or 
in  the  present  work,  that  is  not  frequently  violated  in 
the  compositions  of  men  not  deficient  in  natural  powers  ;  as 
is  proved,  in  several  instcfnces,  by  the  examples  adduced. 
And  the  precepts  I  allude  to  are  such,  exclusively,  as  it  is 
possible  to  apply,  practically,  and,  in  the  strict  sense,  to  folloio. 
I  mention  this,  because  one  may  sometimes  find  precepts — 
so  called — laid  down,  on  various  subjects,  of  so  vague  and 
general  a  character  as  to  be  of  no  practical  use  j  such  as  no 


viii  PREFACE. 

one,  indeed,  should  depart  from^  but  which  no  one  can  be 
really  (juided  by,  because  he  can  never  take  any  step  in  con- 
sequence of  the  enunciation  of  one  of  these  barren  truisms. 
If,  e.  g.,  we  were  to  advise  a  sick  man  "  to  take  whatever 
medicines  were  proper  for  him,"  and  to  "  use  a  wholesome 
diet,"  or  if  we  were  to  bid  an  orator  "  use  forcible  arguments, 
suited  to  the  occasion,"  we  should  be,  in  fact,  only  telling 
them  to  "  go  the  right  way  to  work,"  without  teaching  them 
what  is  the  right  way.  But  no  such  empty  pretence  of  in- 
struction will  be  found,  I  trust,  in  the  present  treatise. 

As  for  the  complaint  sometimes  heard,  of  "  fettering  genius 
by  systems  of  rules,"  I  shall  offer  some  remarks  on  that,  in 
the  course  of  the  work. 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  hardly  necessary  to  observe,  that  the 
following  pages  are  designed  principally  for  the  instruction 
of  unpracticed  writers.  Of  such  as  have  long  been  in  the 
habit  of  writing  or  speaking,  those  whose  procedure  has  been 
conformable  to  the  rules  I  have  laid  down  will  of  course  have 
anticipated  most  of  my  observations ',  and  those,  again,  who 
have  proceeded  on  opposite  principles,  will  be  more  likely  to 
pass  censures,  as  it  were,  in  self-defence,  than  laboriously  to 
unlearn  what  they  have,  perhaps,  laboriously  acquired,  and 
to  sot  out  afresh  on  a  new  system.  But  I  am  encouraged, 
partly  by  the  result  of  experiments,  to  entertain  a  hope  that 
the  present  system  may  prove  useful  to  such  as  have  their 
method  of  composition  and  their  style  of  writing  and  of 
delivery  to  acquire.  And  an  author  ought  to  be  content  if  a 
work  be  found  in  some  instances  not  unprofitable,  which 
cannot,  from  its  nature,  be  expected  to  pass  completely  un- 
censured. 

Whoever,  indeed,  in  treating  of  any  subject,  recommends 
(whether  on  good  or  bad  grounds)  a  departure  from  estab- 
lished practice,  must  expect  to  encounter  opposition.     This 


phepace.  ix 

opposition  does  not,  indeed,  imply  that  his  precepts  are  right; 
but  neither  does  it  prove  them  lorong  ;  it  only  indicates  that 
they  are  ?iet«;  since  few  will  readilyacknowledge  the  plans 
on  which  they  have  long  been  proceeding  to  be  mistaken.  If 
a  treatise,  therefore,  on  the  present  subject  were  received  with 
immediate,  universal,  and  unqualified  approbation,  this  cir- 
cumstance, though  it  would  not,  indeed,  prove  it  to  be  erro- 
neous,  (since  it  is  conceivable  that  the.  methods  commonly 
pursued  may  be  altogether  right,)  yet  would  afford  a  pre- 
sumption that  there  was  not  much  to  be  learned  from  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  more  deep-rooted  and  generally 
prevalent  any  error  may  be,  the  less  favorably,  at  first,  will 
its  refutation  (though  proportionably  the  more  important)  be 
for  the  most  part  received. 

"With  respect  to  what  are  commonly  called  rhetorical  arti- 
fices— contrivances  for  '^  making  the  worse  appear  the  better 
reason"^— it  would  have  savored  of  pedantic  morality  to  give 
solemn  admonitions  against  employing  them,  or  to  enter  a 
formal  disclaimer  of  dishonest  intention ;  since,  after  all,  the 
generality  will,  according  to  their  respective  characters,  make 
what  use  of  a  book  they  think  fit,  without  waiting  for  the 
author's  permission.  But  what  I  have  endeavored  to  do,  is 
cleaAy  to  setforthj  as  far  as  I  could,  (as  Bacon  does  in  his 
Essay  on  Cunning,)  these  sophistical  tricks  of  the  art ;  and 
as  far  as  I  may  have  succeeded  in  this,  I  shall  have  been 
providing  the  only  effectual  check  to  the  employment  of 
them.  The  adulterators  of  food  or  of  drugs,  and  the  coiners 
of  base  money,  keep  their  processes  a  secret,  and  dread  no 
one  so  much  as  him  who  detects,  describes,  and  proclaims 
their  contrivances,  and  thus  puts  men  on  their  guard  j  for 
"every  one  that  doetli  evil  hateth  the  lighty  neither  cometh 
to  the  light,  lest  his  deeds  should  be  made  manifest." 

To  the  prevailing  association  of  the  term  "Rhetoric"  with 
the  idea  of  these  delusive  contrivances,  may  be  traced  the 


X  PREFACE. 

opinion  (which  I  believe  is  also  common)  that  the  power  of 
clofjucnce  is  lost  on  those  who  themselves  possess  it;  or,  at 
least,  that  a  critical  knowledge  of  the  art  of  composition  for- 
tifies any  one,  in  proportion  to  his  proficiency,  against  being 
affected  by  the  persuasive  powers  of  another.  This  is  un- 
doubtedly true,  as  far  as  sojyhistical  skill  is  concerned.  The 
better  acquainted  one  is  with  any  kind  of  rhetorical  trick, 
the  less  liable  he  is  to  be  misled  by  it.  The  artifices,  strictly 
80  called,  of  the  orator,  are 

like  tricks  by  sleight  of  hand, 

Which,  to  admire,  one  should  not  understand; 

and  he  who  has  himself  been  behind  the  scenes  of  a  puppet- 
show,  and  pulled  the  strings  by  which  the  figures  are  moved, 
is  not  likely  to  be  much  affected  by  their  performance.  This 
is  indeed  one  great  recommendation  of  the  study  of  Khetoric, 
that  it  furnishes  the  most  effectual  antidote  against  deception 
of  this  kind.  But  it  is  by  no  means  true  that  acquaintance 
with  an  art — in  the  nobler  sense  of  the  word,  not  as  consist- 
ing in  juggling  tricks — tends  to  diminish  our  sensibility  to 
the  most  excellent  productions  of  art.  The  greatest  profi- 
cients in  music  are  usually  the  most  enthusiastic  admirers  of 
good  music ;  the  best  painters  and  poets,  and  such  as  are  best 
versed  in  the  principles  of  those  arts,  are  in  general  (when 
rivalry  is  out  of  the  question)  the  most  powerfully  affected 
by  ])aintings  and  by  poetry  of  superior  excellence.  And 
none,  I  believe,  are  more  open  to  the  impression  of  sound, 
honest,  manly  eloquence,  than  those  who  display  it  in  their 
own  compositions,  and  are  capable  of  analyzing  critically  the 
mode  in  which  its  effects  are  produced. 

I  may  add,  that  I  have  in  one  place  (Part  II.,  ch.  i.,  §  2) 
pointed  out  an  important  part  of  the  legitimate  art  of  the 
orator,  in*  respect  of  the  minds  of  his  hearers,  as  coinciding 
exactly  with  the  practice  of  a  wise  and  good  man  in  respect 
of  his  own  mind. 


PREFACE.  XI 

Several  passages  will  be  found  in  tlie  following  pages  which 
presuppose  some  acquaintance  with  Logic ;  but  the  greatest 
part  will,  I  trust,  be  intelligible  to  those  who  have  not  this 
knowledge.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  implied  by  what  I  have 
said  of  that  science,  and  indeed  by  the  very  circumstance  of 
my  having  written  on  it,  that  I  cannot  but  consider  him  as 
undertaking  a  task  of  unnecessary  difficulty,  who  endeavors, 
without  studying  Logic,  to  become  a  thoroughly  good  argu- 
mentative writer. 

It  should  be  observed,  however,,  that  a  considerable  portion 
of  what  is  by  many  writers  reckoned  as  a  part  of  Logic,  has 
been  treated  of  by  me  not  under  that  head,  but  in  Part  I.  of 
the  present  work.* 

It  may  be  thought  that  some  apology  is  necessary  for  the 
frequent  reference  made  to  the  treatise  just  mentioned,  and, 
occasionally,  to  some  other  works  of  my  own.  It  appeared 
to  me,  however,  that  either  of  the  other  two  alternatives 
would  have  been  more  objectionable;  viz.,  either  to  omit  en- 
tirely much  that  was  needful  for  the  elucidation  of  the  subject 
in  hand,  or  to  repeat,  in  the  same  or  in  other  words,  what  had 
been  already  published. 

Perhaps  some  apology  may  also  be  thought  necessary  for 
the  various  illustrations,  selected  from  several  authors,  or 
framed  for  the  occasion^  which  occur  both  in  the  present 
treatise  and  in  that  on  Logic;  and  in  which  opinions  on  vari- 
ous subjects  are  incidentally  conveyed;  in  all  of  which  it 

*  I  have  recently  been  represented  (while  the  sixth  edition  of  this 
very  work  was  before  the  public)  as  having  declared  the  impossibiliti/ 
of  making  such  an  analysis  and  classification  of  the  difi"ercnt  kinds 
of  arguments  as  I  have  here  laid  before  the  reader.  Such  a  misap- 
prehension seems  very  unaccountable  ;  for  if  I  ever  had  made  such 
an  assertion,  I  should  have  been,  I  suppose,  the  first  person  that 
ever  proclaimed  the  impossibility  of  something  which,  at  the  same 
time,  he  professed  to  liave  accomplished. 


Xii  TREFACE. 

cannot  be  expected  that  every  one  of  my  readers  will  concur. 
And  some  may  accordingly  be  disposed  to  complain  tliat  they 
cannot  put  these  works  into  the  hands  of  any  young  person 
under  their  care,  without  a  risk  of  his  imbibing  notions  which 
th(7  think  erroneous.  This  objection,  I  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve, has  been  especially  felt,  though  not  always  explicitly 
stated,  by  the  most  decidedly  antichristian  writers  of  the  pre- 
sent day.  Eut  it  should  be  remembered  that  Logic  and 
llhctoric  having  no  proper  subject-matter  of  their  own,  it 
was  necessary  to  resort  to.  other  departments  of  knowledge 
for  exemplifications  of  the  principles  laid  down  ;  and  it  would 
have  been  impossible,  without  confining  myself  to  the  most 
insipid  truisms,  to  avoid  completely  all  tt)pics  on  which  there 
exists  any  difi"erence  of  opinion.  If,  in  the  course  of  either 
work,  I  have  advocated  any  erroneous  tenet,  the  obvious 
remedy  is  to  refute  it.  I  am  utterly  unconscious  of  having, 
in  any  instance,  resorted  to  the  employment  of  fallacy,  or  sub- 
stituted declamation  for  argument;  but  if  any  such  faults 
exist,  it  is  easy  to  expose  them.  Nor  is  it  necessary  that 
when  any  book  is  put  into  the  hands  of  a  young  student,  he 
should  understand  that  he.  is  to  adopt  implicitly  every  doc- 
trine contained  in  it,  or  should  not  be  cautioned  against  any 
erroneous  principles  which  it  may  inculcate ;  otherwise,  in- 
deed, it  would  be  impossible  to  give  young  men  what  is  called 
a  classical  education  without  making  them  pagans. 

That  I  have  avowed  an  assent  to  the  evidences  of  Chris- 
tianity, {thaty  I  believe,  is  the  point  on  which  the  greatest 
soreness  is  felt,)  and  that  this  does  incidentally  imply  some 
censure  of  those  who  reject  it,  is  not  to  be  denied.  But 
they  again  are  at  liberty — and  they  are  not  backward  in  using 
their  liberty — to  repel  the  censure  by  refuting,  if  they  can, 
those  evidences.  And  as  long  as  they  confine  themselves  to 
calm  argumentation,  and  abstain  from  insult,  libellous  person- 
ality, and  falsification  of  facts,  I  earnestly  hope  no  force  will 


PREFACE.  Sill 

ever  be  employed  to  silence  tliem,  except  force  of  argument. 
I  am  not  one  of  those  jealous  lovers  of  freedom  who  would 
fain  keep  it  all  to  themselves ,  nor  do  I  dread  ultimate  dan- 
ger to  the  cause  of  truth  from  fair  discussion.''' 

It  may  be  objected  by  some,  that  in  the  foregoing  words  I 
have  put  forth  a  challenge  which  cannot  be  accepted,  inas- 
much as  it  has  been  declared  by  the  highest  legal  authorities 
that  ^^Christianity  is  part  of  the  law  of  the  land;"  and,  con- 
sequently, any  one  who  impugns  it  is  liable  to  prosecution. 
What  is  the  precise  meaning  of  the  above  legal  maxim  I  do 
not  profess  to  determine,  having  never  met  with  any  one  who 
could  explain  it  to  me  3  but  evidently  the  mere  circumstance 
that  we  have  a  ^'religion  by  law  established,"  does  not,  of 
itself,  imply  the  illegality  of  arguing  against  that  religion. 
The  regulations  of  trade  and  of  navigation,  for  instance,  arc 
unquestionably  part  of  the  law  of  the  land ;  but  the  question 
(of  their  expediency  is  freely  discussed,  and  frequently  in  no 
very  measured  language  j  nor  did  I  ever  hear  of  any  one's 
being  menaced  with  prosecution  for  censuring  them. 

I  presume  not,  however^  to  decide  what  steps  might  legally 
be  taken  :  I  am  looking  only  to  facts  and  probabilities ;  and 
I  feel  a  constant  trust,  as  well  as  hope,  (and  that  founded  on 
experience  of  the  past,)  that  no  legal  penalties  wil)  in  fact  be 
incurred  by  temperate,  decent,  argumentative  maintainors 
even  of  the  most  erroneous  opinions. 

To  the  examples  introduced  by  way  of  illustration,  and  to 
the  incidental  remarks  on  several  points,  I  have  now  made 
(1846)  some  additions,  the  chief  part  of  which  have  been 
also  printed  separately  for  the  use  of  those  who  possess  earlier 
editions.  To  some  readers  the  work  may  appear  to  be  even 
yet  too  scanty  in  this  respect ;  while  others,  again,  may  have 

*  See  Speech  on  Jews'  Relief  Bill,  and'  Remarks  appended  to  it. 
Vol.  of  Tracts,  etc.,  pp.  419-446. 


Xiv  PREFACE. 

thought  even  the  former  editions  too  full  and  too  dis^ressive. 
Rlictoric  haviniz:,  as  I  have  elsewhere  observed,  (like  Logic,) 
no  proper  subject-matter  of  its  own,  it  is  manifestly  impossi- 
ble to  draw  the  line  precisely  between  what  does  and  what 
docs  not  strictly  appertain  to  it.  I  have  endeavored  to  intro- 
duce whatever  may  appear,  to  the  majority  of  students,  xele- 
vant,  interesting,  and  instructive. 

I  have  only  to  add  my  acknowledgments  to  many  kind 
friends  to  whose  judicious  suggestions  and  careful  corrections 
I  am  indebted,  both  in  the  original  composition  of  the  work 
and  in  the  subsequent  revisions  and  enlargements  of  it. 


RHETORIC. 


INTRODUCTION. 

§1- 

Of  Rhetoric  various  definitions  have  been  given  by  differ- 
ent writers ;  who,  however,  seem  not  so  much  to  various  defi- 
have  disagreed  in  their  conceptions  of  the  nature  nitions  of 
of  the  same  thing,  as  to  have  had  different  things  ^  ^<^t<^^"'c. 
in  view  while  they  employed  the  same  term.  Not  only  the 
word  Rhetoric  itself,  but  also  those  used  in  defining  it,  have 
been  taken  in  various  senses :  as  may  be  observed  with  re- 
spect to  the  word  "Art''  in  Cic.  de  Orat.y  where  a  discussion 
is  introduced  as  to  the  applicability  of  that  term  to  Rhetoric; 
manifestly  turning  on  the  different  senses  in  which  ''Art'' 
may  be  understood. 

To  enter  into  an  examination  of  all  the  definitions  that 
have  been  given,  would  lead  to  much  uninteresting  and  unin- 
structive  verbal  controversy.  It  is  sufficient  to  put  the  reader 
on  his  guard  against  the  common  error  of  supposing  that  a 
general  term  has  some  real  object,  properly  corresponding  to 
it,  independent  of  our  conceptions ;  that,  consequently,  some 
one  definition  in  every  case  is  to  be  found  which  will  compre- 
hend every  thing  that  is  rightly  designated  by  that  term ; 
and  that  all  others-  must  be  erroneous;  whereas,  in  fact,  it 
will  often  happen,  as  in  the  present  instance,  that  both  the 
wider  and  the  more  restricted  sense  of  a  term  will  be  alike 
sanctioned  by  use,  (the  only  competent  authority,)  and  that 
the  consequence  will  be  a  corresponding  variation  in  the  defi- 
nitions employed  -,  none  of  which,  perhaps,  may  be  fairly 
chargeable  with  error,  though  none  can  bo  framed  that  will 
apply  to  every  acceptation  of  the  term. 

(15) 


IG  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [§  1. 

It  is  evident  that,  in  its  primary  signification,  Rhetoric  had 
reference  to  public  qwxiking  alone,  as  its  etymology  implies. 
]3ut,  as  most  of  the  rules  for  speaking  are  of  course  applica- 
ble equally  to  writing,  an  extension  of  the  term  naturally 
toolf  place ;  and  we  find  even  Aristotle,  the  earliest  system- 
atic writer  on  the  subject  whose  works  have  come  down  to 
us,  including  in  his  treatise  rules  for  such  compositions  as 
were  not  intended  to  be  publicly  recited.*  And  even  as  far 
as  relates  to  speeches,  properly  so  called,  he  takes,  in  the 
same  treatise,  at  one  time  a  wider,  and  at  another  a  more 
restricted  view  of  the  subject;  including  under  the  term 
lihetoric,  in  the  opening  of  his  work,  nothing  beyond  the 
finding  of  topics  of  persuasion,  as  far  as  regards  the  matter 
of  what  is  spoken  ]  and  afterwards  embracing  the  considera- 
tion of  style,  arrangement,  and  delivery. 

The  invention  of  printing,"}"  by  extending  the  sphere  of 
operation  of  the  writer,  has  of  course  contributed  to  the  ex- 
tension of  those  terms  which,  in  their  primary  signification, 
had  reference  to  speaking  aloixe.  Many  objects  are  now  ac- 
complished through  the  medium  of  the  press  which  formerly 
came  under  the  exclusive  province  of  the  orator;  and  the 
qualifications  requisite  for  success  are  so  much  the  same  in 
both  cases,  that  we  apply  the  term  "  eloquent"  as  readily  to 
a  writer  as  to  a  speaker ;  though,  etymologically  considered, 
it  cotild  only  belong  to  the  latter.  Indeed,  "  eloquence"  is 
often  attributed  even  to  such  compositions— e.  g.,  historical 
works — as  have  in  view  an  object  entirely  different  from  any 
that  could  be  proposed  by  an  orator ;  because  some  part  of 
the  rules  to  be  observed  in  oratory,  or  rules  analogous  to 
the^e,  are  applicable  to  such  compositions.  (  Conformably  to 
this  view,  therefore,  some  writers  have  spoken  of  Rhetoric 
as  the  art  of  composition,  universally;)  or,  with  the  exclusion 
of  Poetry  alone,  as  embracihg  all  prose  composition. 

*  Aristot.  RhoL,  Book  III. 

f  Or  rather  of  puprr ;  for  the  invention  of  printing  is  too  obvious 
not  to  have  spccMlily  followed,  in  a  literary  nation,  the  introduction 
of  a  paper  sufiQcicutly  cheap  to  make  the  art  available.  Indeed,  the 
seals  of  the  ancients  seem  to  have  been  a  kind  of  stamps,  with  which 
they  in  fact  printed  their  names.  But  the  high  price  of  books, 
caused  by  the  dearness  of  paper,  precluded  the  sale  of  copies,  ex- 
cept in  so  fiviall  a  mimhcr  that  i\\Q  printing  of  them  would  have  been 
more  costly  than  transcribing. 


'W^JJ^ 


§  1.]  INTRODUCTION.  17 

A  still  wider  extension  of  the  province  of  Rhetoric  has 
been  contended  for  by  some  of  the  ancient  writers;  who, 
thinking  it  necessary  to  include,  as  belonging  to  the  art, 
every  thing  that  could  conduce  to  the  attainment  of  the  .ob- 
ject proposed,  introduced  into  their  systems  Treatises  on  Law, 
Morals,  Politics,  etc.,  on  the  ground  that  a  knowledge  of  these 
subjects  was  requisite  to  enable  a  man  to  speak  well  on  them  ; 
and  even  insisted  on  virtue*  as  an  essential  qualification  of 
a  perfect  orator;  because  a  good  character,  which  can  in 
no  way  be  so  surely  established  as  by  deserving  it,  has  great 
weight  with  the  audience. 

These  notions  are  combated  by  Aristotle ;  who 
attributes  them  either  to  the  ill-cultivated  under-  censure^  of 
standins:  (dTraidevola)  of  those  who  maintained  1"'^  predeces- 
them,  or.  to  their  arrogant  and  pretending  dispo- 
sition, (dXa^oveia))  i.  e.,  a  desire  to  extol  and  magnify  the 
art  they  professed.  In  the  present  day,  the  extravagance  of 
such  doctrines  is  so  apparent  to  most  readers,  that  it  would 
not  be  worth  while  to  take  much  pains  in  refuting  them.  It 
is  worthy  of  remark,  however,  that  the  very  same  erroneous 
view  is,  even  now,  often  taken  of  Logic;*)"  which  has  been 
considered  by  some  as  a  kind  of  system  of  universal  know- 
ledge, on  the  ground  that  argument  may  be  employed  on  all 
subjects,  and  that  no  one  can  argue  well  on  a  subject  which 
he  does  not  understand ;  and  which  has  been  complained  of 
by  others  for  not  supplying  any  such  universal  instruction  as 
its  unskilful  advocates  have  placed  within  its  province ;  such 
as,  in  fact,  no  one  art  or  system  can  possibly  afford. 

The  error  is  precisely  the  same  in  respect  of  llhetoric  and 
of  Logic ;  both  being  instimmental  arts,  and,  as  such,  aj)pli- 
cahle  to  various  kinds  of  subject-matter  which  do  not  properly 
come  under  them. 

So  judicious  an  author  as  Quinctilian  would  not  have  foiled 
to  perceive,  had  he  not  been  carried  away  by  an  inordinate 
veneration  for  his  own  art,  that  as  the  possession  of  building 
materials  is  no  part  of  the  art  of  architecture,  though  it  is 
impossible  to  build  without  materials,  so  the  knowledge  of 
the  subjects  on  which  the  orator  is  to  speak  constitutes  no 
part  of  the  art  of  llhetoric,  though  it  be  essential  to  its  suc- 

*  See  Quinctilian.  f  Elements  of  Logic,  Introd. 


i 

18  ELEMENTS   OF   RnETOllIC.  [§  1. 

ccpsful  employment  ;f  and  that  though  virtue,  and  the  good 

reputation  it  procures,  add  materially  to  the  speaker's  influ- 

:vx-  '^(rut  ence,  they  are  no  more  to  be,  for  that  reason,  considered  as 
^^j'/o  ^^clonging  to  the  orator,  as  such,  than  wealth,  rank,  or  a  good 
k  \ufci  '  person,  which  manifestly  have  a  tendency  to  produce  the 

X^  .  ^"^  same  eflfect.  j  ^.^ 

S^^^^^^  Extremes  in        ^"  ^^^^  present  day,  however,  the  province  of  ;^X'^ 

•^^l^^the  limitation   Rhetoric,  in  the  widest  acceptation  that  would  be  It  Sh-n 

^  wtAlof'tiiyilrcr"   reckoned  admissible,  comprehends  all  "  Compo- li^lsju*.  ^c 

;  Uc«Atui.vince  of  iihe-  sition  in  Prose  '/'  in  the  narrowest  sense,  it  would  ^f  firwv  A 

—      t^nc.  -^^  limited  to  "  Persuasive  Speaking."  jhlu^  U 

Obiect  of  the       ^  propose,  in  the  present  work,  to  adopt  a  mid- ^"^  »*c 

— .  present  treatr  dlc  course  between  these  two  extreme  points ;  J^^^J^ 

J^hv^Bt  "**^*  ^^^  *o  treat  of  "Argumentative  Composition,"  ^^    ^^ 

.■^i^  \^!!!j^fjienfraUi/  and  exclusively;  considering  Rhetoric  (in.conform-  H,^f^^i-^ 

•    '/-stvi-ity  with  the  very  just  and  philosophical  view  of  Aristotle)  as    „,«-»-—>« 

^_:.i>vA*X^"  offshoot  from  Logic. 

uc-  t^  \vA       I  remarked,  in  treating  of  that  science,  that  reasoning  may 
'^  '^^^t.-be  considered  as  applicable  to  two  purposes,  which  I  ven- 
'      fc*^j'';'"tured  to  designate  respectively  by  the  terms  "inferring"  and 
^^  ;^^  **  proving ;"  i.  e.,  the  ascertainment  of  the  truth  by  investi- 
p-^^U  *■  gation,  and  the   estahllshment  of   it  to   the   satisfaction    of 
t^  OA^  '^another';  and  I  there  remarked,  that  Bacon,  in  his  Organon, 
lias  laid  down  rules  for  the  conduct  of  the  former  of  these 
x:lLi«xI'-  ]»rocesses,  and  that  the  latter  belongs  to  the  province  of 
—        Jihctoric ;  and  it  was  added,  that  to  infer  is  to  be  regarded 
as  the  proper  office  of  the  philosopher  or  the  judge — to  j^rove, 
of  the  advocate.     It  is  not,  how^ever,  to  be  under- 
l^hiiosophy      stood  that  philosophical  works  are  to  be  excluded 
compared.        from  the  class  to  which  rhetoriciil  rules  are  ap- 
plicable )  for  the  philosopher  who  undertakes,  by 
writing  or  speaking,  to  convey  his  notions  to  others,  assumes, 
ibr  the  time  being,  the  character  of  advocate  of  the  doc- 
trines he  maintains.     The  process  of  investigation  must  be 
supposed  completed,  and  certain  conclusions  arrived  at  by 
that  process,  before  he  begins  to  impart  his  ideas  to  others  in 
a  treatise  or  lecture;  the  object  of  which  must,  of  course, 
be  to  ])rove  the  justness  of  those  conclusions.     And  in  doing 
this,  he  will  not  always  find  it  expedient  to  adhere  to  the 
same  course  of  reasoning  by  which  his  own  discoveries  were 
originally  made :  other  arguments  may  occur  to  him  after- 


§  1.]  INTRODUCTION.  '  19 

wards  more  clear  or  more  concise,  or  better  adapted  to  the 
understanding  of  those  he  addresses.  In  exphiining,  there- 
fore, and  establishing  the  truth,  he  may  often  have  occasion 
for  rules  of  a  different  kind  from  those  employed  in  its  dis- 
covery. Accordingly,  when  I  remarked,  in  the  work  above 
alluded  to,  that  it  is  a  common  fault  for  those  engaged  in 
philosophical  and  theological  inquiries  to  forget  their  own 
peculiar  office,  and  assume  that  of  the  advocate,  improperly, 
this  caution  is  to  be  understood  as  applicable  to  the  process 
of  forming  their  oicn  opinions — not  as  excluding  them  from 
advocating,  by  all  fair  arguments,  the  conclusions  at  which 
they  have  arrived  by  candid  investigation.  But  if  this  can- 
did investigation  do  not  take  place  in  the  first  instance,  no 
pains  that^  they  may  bestow  in  searching  for  arguments  will 
have  any  tendency  to  insure  their  attainment  of  truth.  If  a 
man  begins  (as  is  too  plainly  a  frequent  mode  of  proceeding) 
by  hastily  adopting  or  strongly  leaning  to  some  opinion  which 
suits  his  inclination,  or  which  is  sanctioned  by  some  authority 
that  he  blindly  venerates,  and  then  studies  with  the  utmost 
diligence,  not  as  an  investigator  of  truth,  but  as  an  advocate 
laboring  to  prove  his  point,  his  talents  and  his  researches, 
whatever  efiect  they  may  produce  in  making  converts  to  his 
notions,  will  avail  nothing  in  enlightening  his  own  judgment, 
and  securing  him  from  error.* 

Composition,  however,  of  the  argumentative  kind,  may  be 
considered  (as  has  been  above  stated)  as  coming  under  the 
province  of  Khetoric.  And  this  view  of  the  subject  is  the 
less  open  to  objection,  inasmuch  as  it  is  not  likely  to  lead  to 
discussions  that  can  be  deemed  superfluous,  even  by  those 
who  may  choose  to  consider  Rhetoric  in  the  most  restricted 
sense,  as  relating  only  to  "  Persuasive  Speaking;"  since  it  is 
evident  that  argument  must  be,  in  most  cases  at  least,  the 
basis  of  persuasion. 

I  propose,  then,  to  treat,  first  and  principally,  of  the  dis- 
covery of  ARGUMENTS,  and   of  their   arrange-   p,.^j^  ^^  ^,^^ 
ment ;  secondly,  to  lay  down  some  rules  respect-   present  treat- 
ing the  excitement  and  management  of  what  arc   ^^*^' 
commonly  called  the  passions j  (including  every  kind  of  fcel- 

*  Sec  Essay  on  tlie  Love  of  Truth,  2d  Scries. 


20  "ELEMENTS   OF  RHETORIC.  [§  2. 

ing,  sentiment,  or  emotion,)  with  a  view  to  the  attainment 
of  any  object  proposed — principally  persuasion,  in  the  strict 
sense,  i.  e.,  the  influencing  of  the  will;  thirdly,  to  offer 
some  remarks  on  style;  and,  fourthly,  to  treat  of  elocution. 

§2. 

It  may  be  expected  that  before  I  proceed  to 
Rhetoric!^  treat  of  the  art  in  question,  I  should  present  the 
reader  with  a  sketch  of  its  history.  Little,  how- 
ever, is  required  to  be  said  on  this  head,  because  the  present 
is  not  one  of  those  branches  of  study  in  which  we  can  trace 
with  interest  a  progressive  improvement  from  age  to  age.  It 
is  one,  on  the  contrar}'',  to  which  more  attention  appears  to 
have  been  paid,  and  in  which  greater  proficiency  is  supposed 
to  have  been  made,  in  the  earliest  days  of  science  and  litera- 
ture, than  at  any  subsequent  period.  Among  the 
^^^  °  ^*  ancients,  Aristotle,  the  earliest  whose  works  are 
extant,  may  safely  be  pronounced  to  be  also  the  best  of  the 
systematic  writers  on  Rhetoric.  Cicero  is  hardly 
'to  be  reckoned  among  the  number;  for  he  de- 
lighted so  much  more  in  the  practice  than  in  the  theory  of 
his  art,  that  he  is  perpetually  drawn  off  from  the  rigid  philo- 
sophical analysis  of  its  principles  into  discursive  declama- 
tions, always  eloquent  indeed,  and  often  highly  interesting; 
but  adverse  to  regularity  of  system,  and  frequently  as  un- 
satisfactory to  the  practical  student  as  to  the  philosopher. 
lie  abounds,  indeed,  with  excellent  practical  remarks — though 
the  best  of  them  are  scattered  up  and  down  his  works  with 
much  irregularity — but  his  precepts,  though  of  great  weight, 
as  being  the  result  of  experience,  are  not  often  traced  up  by 
liim  to  first  principles ;  and  we  are  frequently  left  to  guess, 
not  only  on  what  basis  his  rules  are  grounded,  but  in  what 
cases  they  are  applicable.  Of  this  latter  defect  a  remarkable 
instance  will  be  hereafter  cited.* 

Quinctilian  is  indeed  a  systematic  writer,  but  cannot  be 
.  considered  as  having  much  extended  the  philoso- 

phical views  of  his  predecessors  in  this  depart- 
ment. He  possessed  much  good  sense,  but  this  was  tinctured 
with  pedantry — with  that  pretension  (dXai^oveia,  as  Aristotle 

*  See  Part  I.,  chap,  iii.,  §  5. 


§  2.]  INTRODUCTION.  21 

calls  it)  which  extends  to  an  extravagant  degree  the  province 
of  the  art  which  he  professes.  A  great  part  of  his  work  in- 
deed is  a  treatise  on  education,  generally ;  in  the  conduct  of 
which  he  was  no  mean  proficient;  for  such  was  the  import- 
ance attached  to  public  speaking,  even  long  after  the  down- 
fall of  the  llepublic  had  cut  off  the  orator  from  the  hopes  of 
attaining,  through  the  means  of  this  qualification,  the  highest 
political  importance,  that  he  who  was  nominally  a  professor 
of  llhetoric,  had  in  fact  the  most  important  branches  of  in- 
struction intrusted  to  his  care. 

Many  valuable  maxims,  however,  are  to  be  found  in  this 
author ;  but  he  wanted  the  profundity  of  thought  and  powcv 
of  analysis  which  Aristotle  possessed. 

The  writers  on  Rhetoric  among  the  ancients  whosp  works 
are  lost,  seem  to  have  been  numerous ;  but  most  of  them  ap- 
pear to  have  confined  themselves  to  a  very  narrow  view  of 
the  subject,  and  to  have  been  occupied,  as  Aristotle  complains, 
with  the  minor  details  of  style  and  arrangement,  and  with  the 
sophistical  tricks  and  petty  artifices  of  the  pleader,  instead  of 
giving  a  masterly  and  comprehensive  sketch  of  the  essentials. 

Among  the  moderns,  few  writers  of  ability  have  turned 
their  thoughts  to  the  subject;  and  but  little  has  been  added, 
either  in  respect  of  matter  or  of  system,  to  what 
the  ancients  have  left  us.  Bacon's  '^Antitheta,^' 
however — the  rhetorical  commonplaces — are  a  wonderful 
specimen  of  acuteness  of  thought  and  pointed  conciseness  of 
expression.  I  have  accordingly  placed  a  selection  of  them  in 
the  Appendix.* 

It  were  most  unjust  in  this  place  to  leave  un- 
noticed Dr.  Campbell's  ^'Philowphy  of  EhcWric.;'         Campbell. 
a  work  which  has  not  obtained  indeed  so  high  a  degree  of 
popular  favor  as  Dr.  Blair's  once  enjoyed,  but  is 
incomparably  superior  to  it,  not  only  in  depth  of  ^'^' 

thought  and  ingenious  original  research,  but  also  in  practical 
utility  to  the  student.  The  title  of  Dr.  Campbell's  work  has 
perhaps  deterred  many  readers,  who  have  concluded  it  to  be 
more  abstruse  and  less  popular  in  its  character  than  it  really 
is.  Amidst  much,  however,  that  is  readily  understood  by  any 
moderately  intelligent  reader,  there  is  much  also  that  calls 

*  See  Appendix,  [A.] 


22  "  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [§  3. 

for  some  exertion  of  tliought,  which  the  indolence  of  most 
readers  refuses  to  bestow.  And  it  must  be  owned  that  he  also 
in  some  instances  perplexes  his  readers  by  .being  perplexed 
himself,  and  bewildered  in  the  discussion  of  questions  through 
which  he  does  not  clearly  see  his  way.  His  great  defect, 
which  not  only  leads  him  into  occasional  errors,  but  leaves 
many  of  his  best  ideas  but  imperfectly  developed,  is  his 
ignorance  and  utter  misconception  of  the  nature  and  object 
of  Logic ;  on  which  some  remarks  are  made  in  my  treatise  on 
that  science.  Khetoric  being  in  truth  an  offshoot  of  Logic, 
that  rhetorician  must  labor  under  great  disadvantages  who  is 
not  only  ill  acquainted  with  that  system,  but  also  utterly  un- 
conscious of  his  deficiency. 

§3. 
From  a  general  view  of  the  history  of  Rhetoric,  two  ques- 
tions naturally  suggest  themselves,  which,  on  examination, 
will  be  found  very  closely  connected  together  :  first,  what  is 
the  cause  of  the  careful  and  extensive  cultivation,  among  the 
ancients,  of  an  art  which  the  moderns  have  comparatively 
neglected ;  and,  secondly,  whether  the  former  or  the  latter 
are  to  be  regarded  as  the  wiser  in  this,  respect:  in  other 
words,  whether  Rhetoric  be  loorth  any  diligent  cultivation. 

With  regard  to  the  first  of  these  questions,  the 
cuUiva^on  of  answcr  generally  given  is,  that  the  nature  of  the 
Khetoric  by      g;overnment   in  the  ancient  democratical  States 

the  ancients,      o  ,,  ,„  ,,.  ,  ,-, 

caused  a  demand  tor  public  speakers,  and  lor 
such  speakers  as  should  be  able  to  gain  influence  not  only 
with  educated  persons  in  dispassionate  deliberation,  but  with 
a  promiscuous  multitude ;  and,  accordingly,  it  is  remarked 
that  the  extinction  of  liberty  brought  with  it,  or  at  least 
brought  after  it,  the  decline  of  eloquence;  as  is  justly  re- 
marked (though  in  a  courtly  form)  by  the  author  of  the  dia- 
logue on  Oratory  which  passes  under  the  name  of  Tacitus : 
"  What  need  is  there  of  Ions:  discourses  in  the  Senate,  when 
the  best  of  its  members  speedily  come  to  an  agreement :  or 
of  numerous  harangues  to  the  people,  when  deliberations  on 
public  affairs  are  conducted,  not  by  a  multitude  of  unskilled 
persons,  but  by  a  single  individual,  and  that  the  wisest?"* 

*  "  Quid  enim  opus  est  longis  in  Senatu  sententiis,  cum  optimi  cito 
consentiant  ?  quid,  multis  apud  populum  concionibus,  cum  de  repub- 
lica  non  imperiti  et  multi  deliberent,  sed  sapientissimus,  et  unus?" 


§  3.]  INTRODUCTION. 


23 


The  account  of  the  matter  is  undoubtedly  correct  as  far  as 
it  goes ;  but  the  importance  of  public  speaking  is  so  great  in 
our  own  and  all  other  countries  that  are  not  under  a  despotic 
government,  that  the  apparent  neglect  of  the  study  of  Rhe- 
toric seems  to  require  some  further  explanation.    Part  of  this 
explanation  may  be  supplied  by  the  consideration  that  the 
difference  in  this  respect  between  the  ancients  and  ourselves 
IS  not  so  great  in  reality  as  in  appearance.     When  the  only 
way  of  addressing  the  public  was  by  orations,  and 
when  all  political  measures  were  debated  in  popu-   Ererslt"*'' 
lar  assemblies,  the  characters  of  orator,  author,    t^>er  than  " 
and  politician  almost  entirely  coincided  :  he  who   ^'^'''^•''■^• 
would  communicate  his  ideas  to  the  world,  or  would  gain 
political  power,  and  carry  his  legislative  schemes  into  effect 
was  necessarily  a  speaker;  since,  as  Pericles  is  made  to  re- 
mark by  Thucydides,  ''  one  who  forms  a,  judgment  on  any 
pomt,  but  cannot  explain  himself  clearly  to  the  people,  mio-ht 
as  well  have  never  thought  at  all  on  the  subject.'^*    The  con- 
sequence was,  that  almost  all  who  sought  and  all  who  pro- 
fessed to  give  instruction  in  the  principles  of  2:overnment, 
and  the  conduct  of  judicial  proceedings,  combin'ed  these  in 
their  minds  and  in  their  practice  with  the  study  of  Rhetoric 
which  was  necessary  to  give  effect  to  all  such  attainments  • 
and  in  time  the  rhetorical  writers  (of  whom  Aristotle  makes 
that  complaint)  came  to  consider  the  science  of  legislation 
and  of  politics  in  genei-al,  as  a  part  of  their  own  art.  ^ 

Much  therefore  of  what  was  formerly  studied  under  the 
name  of  Rhetoric,  is  still,  under  other  names,  as  generally  and 
as  diligently  studied  as  ever.  Much  of  what  we  now  call 
literature,  or  "  Belles  Lettres,"  was  formerly  included  in  what 
the  ancients  called  rhetorical  studies. 

It  cannot  be  denied,  however,  that  a  great  difference, 
though  less,  as  I  have  said,  than  might  at  first  si^ht  ap- 
pear, does  exist  between  the  ancients  and  the  moderns'^in  this 
point— that  what  is  strictly  and  properly  called  Rhetoric,  is 
inuch  less  studied,  at  least  less  systematically  studied,  now  • 
thaji  formerly.  Perhaps  this  also  may  be  in  some  measure 
accounted  for  from  the  circumstances  which  have  been  just 
noticed.     Such  is  the  distrust  excited  by  any  suspicion  of  rhe- 

*  Thucydides,  Book  II.     See  the  Motto. 


24  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [§  4. 

Disavowal  of  toi'ical  artifice,  that  every  speaker  or  writer  who 
rhetorical  is  anxious  to  carrv  his  point,  endeavors  to  disown 
among  the  or  to  keep  out  of  sight  any  superiority  of  skill ; 
moderns.  ^^^  wishes  to  be  considered  as  relying  rather 
on  the  strength  of  his  cause,  and  the  soundness  of  his  views, 
than  on  his  ingenuity  and  expertness  as  an  advocate.  Hence 
it  is  that  even  those  who  have  paid  the  greatest  and  the  most 
successful  attention  to  the  study  of  composition  and  of  elocu- 
tion are  so  far  from  encouraging  others  by  example  or  recom- 
mendation to  engage  in  the  same  pursuit,  that  they  laboT 
rather  to  conceal  and  disavow  their  own  proficiency ;  and  thus 
theoretical  rules  are  decried  even  by  those  who  owe  the  most 
to  them.  Whereas  among  the  ancients,  the  same  cause  did 
not,  for  the  reasons  lately  mentioned,  operate  to  the  same  ex- 
tent ;  since,  however  careful  any  speaker  might  be  to  disown 
the  artifices  of  Rhetoric,  properly  so  called,  he  would  not  be 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  himself,  generally,  a  student  or  a 
proficient  in  an  art  which  was  understood  to  include  the  ele- 
ments of  political  wisdom. 


With  regard  to  the  other  quastion  proposed,  viz.,  concern- 
ing the  utility  of  Rhetoric,  it  is  to  be  observed 
Rhetorrc^.  ^^^^^  ^^  divides  itself  into  two  :  first,  whether  ora- 
•  torical  skill  be,  on  the  whole,  a  public  benefit  or 
evil ;  and,  secondly,  whether  any  artificial  system  of  rules  is 
conducive  to  the  attainment  of  that  skill. 

The  former  of  these  questions  was  eagerly  debated  among 
the  ancients ;  on  the  latter,  but  little  doubt  seems  to  have  ex- 
isted. With  us,  on  the  contrary,  the  state  of  these  questions 
seems  nearly  reversed.  It  seems  generally  admitted  that  skill 
in  composition  and  in  speaking,  liable  as  it  evidently  is  to 
abuse,  is  to  be  considered,  on  the  whole,  as  advantageous  to 
the  public,  because  that  liability  to  abuse  is  neither  in  this 
nor  in  any  other  case  to  be  considered  as  conclusive  against 
the  utility  of  any  kind  of  art,  faculty,  or  profession ;  because 
the  evil  efi"ects  of  misdirected  power  require  that  equal  powers 
should  be  arrayed  on  the  opposite  side ;  and  because  truth, 
having  an  intrinsic  superiority  over  falsehood,  may  be  ex- 
pected to  prevail  when  the  skill  of  the  contending  parties  is 


§  4.]  INTRODUCTION.  *  25 

equal,  which  will  be  the  more  likely  to  take  place,  the  more 
widely  such  skill  is  diffused.* 

But  many,  perhaps  most  persons,  are  inclined 
to  the  opinion  that  eloquence,  either  in  writing   Jl^^'^osed^to 
or  speaking,  is  either  a  natural  gift,  or,  at  least,   be  something 
is  to  be  acquired  by  mere  practice,  and  is  not  to  be'^taugS."*^ 
be  attained  or  improved  by  any  system  of  rules. 
And  this  opinion  is  favored  not  least  by  those  (as  has  been 
just  observed)  whose  own  experience  would   enable  them  to 
dx3cide  very  differently ;  and   it  certainly  seems  to  be  in  a 
great  degree  practically  adopted.     Most  persons,  if  not  left 
entirely  to  the  disposal  of  chance  in  respect  of  this  branch 
of  education,  are  at  least  left  to  acquire  what  they  can  by 
practice,  such  as  school  or  college-exercises  afford,  without 
much  care  being  taken  to  initiate  them  systematically  into  the 
principles  of  the  art ;  and  that,  frequently,  not  so  much  from 
negligence  in   the  conductors  of  education,  as  from  their 
doubts  of  the  utility  of  any  such  regular  system. 

It  certainly  must  be  admitted,  that  rules  not  constructed 
on  broad  philosophical  principles  are  more  likely  Erroneous 
to  cramp  than  to  assist  the  operations  of  our  systems  of 
faculties;  that  a  pedantic  display  of  technical  ^'^^^^' 
skill  is  more  detrimental  in  this  than  in  any  ot^jier  pursuit, 
since,  by  exciting  distrust,  it  counteracts  the  very  purpose 
of  it;  that  a  system  of  rules  imperfectly  comprehended,  or 
not  familiarized  by  practice,  will  (while  that  continues  to  be 
the  case)  prove  rather  an  impediment  than  a  help — as  indeed 
will  be  found  in  all  other  arts  likewise ',  and  that  no  system 
can  be  expected  to  equalize  men  whose  natural  powers  are 
different.  But  none  of  these  concessions  at  all  invalidate  the 
positions  of  Aristotle :  that  some  succeed  better  than  others 
in  explaining  their  opinions,  and  bringing  over  others  to 

*  Arist.  Rhet.,  Ch.  I. — He  might  have  gone  farther;  for  it  will  very 
often  happen  that,  before  a  popular  audience,  a  greater  degree  of  skill 
is  requisite  for  maintaining  the  cause  of  truth  than  of  falsehood. 
There  are  cases  in  which  the  arguments  which  lie  most  on  the  sur- 
face, and  are,  to  superficial  reasoners,  the  most  easily  set  forth  in  a 
plausible  form,  are  those  on  the  wrong  side.  It  is  often  difficult  to 
a  writer,  and  still  more  to  a  speaker,  to  point  out  and  exhibit  in  their 
full  strength  the  delicate  distinctions  on  which  truth  sometimes  de- 
pends. 


26  '        ELEMENTS   OF  RHETORIC.  [§  4. 

them ;  and  that  not  merely  by  superiority  of  natural  gifts, 
but  by  acquired  habit;  and  that  consequently,  if  we  can 
discover  the  causes  of  this  superior  success — the  means  by 
"which  the  desired  end  is  attained  by  all  who  do  attain  it — we 
shall  be  in  possession  of  rules  capable  of  general  application; 
which  is,  says  he,  the  proper  oflB.ce  of  an  art.*  Experience 
so  plainly  evinces,  what  indeed  we  might  naturally  be  led 
antecedently  to  conjecture,  that  a  right  judgment  on  any 
subject  is  not  necessarily  accompanied  by  skill  in  effecting 
conviction — nor  the  ability  to  discover  truth,  by  a  facility  in 
explaining  it — that  it  might  be  matter  of  wonder  how  any 
doubt  should  ever  have  existed  as  to  the  possibility  of  devis- 
ing, and  the  utility  of  employing,  a  system  of  rules  for  '' ar- 
gumentative composition'^  generally — distinct  from  any  sys- 
tem conversant  about  the  subject-matter  of  each  composition. 
I  have  remarked  in  the  Lectures  on  Political  Economy, 

(Lect.  9,)  that  ^'  some  persons  complain,  not  alto- 
f^°ts^iuf^e°^  gether  without  reason,  of  the  prevailing  igno- 
medy  for  logi-  rance  of  facts,  relative  to  this  and  to  many  other 
racy.^'^^^^'      Subjects;  and  yet  it  will  often  be  found  that  the 

parties  censured,  though  possessed  of  less  know- 
I  ledge  than  they  ought  to  have,  yet  possess  more  than  they 
know  what  to  do  with.  Their  deficiency  in  arranging  and 
applying  their  knowledge,  in  combining  facts,  and  correctly 
deducing  and  employing  general  principles,  shall  be  greater 
than  their  ignorance  of  facts.  Now  to  attempt  remedying 
this  fault  by  imparting  to  then>  additional  knowledge — to 
confer  the  advantage  of  wider  experience  on  those  who  have 
not  the  power  of  profiting  by  experience — is  to  attempt  en- 
larging the  prospect  of  a  short-sighted  man  by  bringing  him 
to  the  top  of  a  hill. 

"  In  the  tale  of  Sandford  and  Merton,  where  the  two  boys 
are  described  as  amusing  themselves  with  building  a  hovel 
with  their  own  hands,  they  lay  poles  horizontally  on  the  top, 
and  cover  them  with  straw,  so  as  to  make  a  flat  roof:  of 
course  the  rain  comes  through ;  and  Master  Merton  then  ad- 
vises to  lay  on  more  straw ;  but  Sandford,  the  more  intelli- 
gent boy,  remarks  that  as  long  as  the  roof  is  flat,  the  rain 
must,  sooner  or  later,  soak  through;  and  that  the  remedy  is 

*  "OTrep  kari  rexvfjg  Ipyov. — Rhet.,  Book  I.,  chap.  i. 


J 


§  '*•]  INTRODUCTION.  27 

to  make  a  new  arranffcment,  and  form  the  roof  slopins?.  Now 
the  Idea  of  enhghtening  incorrect  reasoners  by  addition^ 
knowledge,  ,s  an  error  similar  to  that  of  the  flat  roof    H  t 

thTZl7l'l^''r'-''-''''T-'  tl-^y  ««gh' fi'^t  to  be  taught 
the  right  way  of  raismg  the  roof.     Of  course  knowled<-e  is 
necessary;  so  is  straw  to  thatch  the  roof:  but  no  ouantitv 
of  materials  will  supply  the  want  of  knowing  how  L  lund.^^ 
n„t  •    if?       ?       "  prevailing  fault  of  the  present  day 
not  indeed  to  seek  too  much  for  knowledge,  but  to  trust  to 
accumulation  of  facts  as  a  suUHMe  for  acc'ur'aey  in  the  lot  c.l 
processes     Had  Bacon  lived  in  the  present  day,  I  am  inclined 
to   hink  he  would  have  made  his  chief  complaint  agains   un- 
methodized  inquiry  and  illogical  reasoning.      Certah^Iv  To 
would  not  have  complained  of  DMectics  as%orruptin"  Ph^ 
osophy.     To  guard  now  against  the  evils  prevalentin  /I . 
t  me  would  be  to  fortify  a  town  against  baUering-rams,   Z 

fbuse1;&f-''"""'|-   .^^"'''^  ^^-^-^^^hle  that^ven   hat 
abuse  ot  Dialectics  which  he  complains  of,  was  rather  an 

from  :  wanf  ^f  7'''  !^^  ™"T"»"  P™^''-  *»  °-  "i^^!»g 
trom  a  want  of  knowledge.     Men  were  led  to  false  conelu° 

sons  not   hrough  mere  ignorance,  but  from  hastily  assuming 

the  correetness  of  the  data  they  reasoned  from,  wUhout  sug 

ficient  grounds._     And  it  is  remarkable  that  the  revolution 

brought  aboutm  Philosophy  by  Baeon,  was  not  the  .^^c"  bu" 

the  cmcse,  of  increased  knowledge  of  physical  facts :  it  was' 

not  that  men  were  taught  to  think  correctly  by  havin  "new 

phenomena  brought  to  light;  but,  on  the  eo^ntr^arr^ey  d!s 

subiel't  ma^teV''^*-'  ^^^^'"^  Prejudices  on  the  present 
subject  may  be  traced  in  great  measure  to  the  imperfect  or 
incorrect  notions  of  some  writers,  who  have  either^  confined 
their  attention  to  trifling  minutia>  of  style,  or  at  least  have 
n  some  respect  failed  to  take  a  sufiicient ly  comprehen^ve 

IS  to  be  clc^rrP]'?^  '^^  ''.'■     One  distiLtion'especiai; 
Lt     1  fj'?"'  ''"™  ""^^  carefully  borne  in  mind  by 

those  who  would  form  a  correct  idea  of  those  principles-  viz 
the  distinction  already  noticed  in  tl.e''MeJents7lo,c,'' 
between  an  art,  and  the  art.     "An  art  of  reasoning"  /ou  d      f 

2!l  ?  "^  °'  'y^''"^  "^  '"'^^  ^y  *«  observance  of      ^ 

which  one  may  reason  correctly:"  "the  art  of  reasonino" 


28  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [§  4. 

would  imply  a  system  of  rules  to  which  every  one  does  con- 
form (whether  knowingly  or  not)  who  reasons  correctly;  and 
such  is  Logic,  considered  as  an  art. 

In  like  manner,  ^^an  art  of  composition"  would  imply  "a 

system  of  rules  by  which  a  good  composition  may 

A  rightly         be  produced  :"  ^Uhe  art  of  composition,"  ^^  such 

formed  sys-        "     r  ,  .   .  ^  /  n 

tein  does  not  rules  as  every  good  composition  must  coniorm 
tira/poweii!'  *«,"  whether  the  author  of  it  had  them  in  his 
mind  or  not.  Of  the  former  character  appear  to 
have  been  (among  others)  many  of  the  logical  and  rhetorical 
systems  of  Aristotle's  predecessors  in  those  departments. 
.  He  himself  evidently  takes  the  other  and  more  philosophical 
view  of  both  branches :  as  appears  (in  the  case  of  Rhetoric) 
both  from  the  plan  he  sets  out  with,  that  of  investigating  the 
causes  of  the  success  of  all  who  do  succeed  in  effectijig  con- 
viction, and  from  several  passages  occurring  in  various  parts 
of  his  treatise,  which  indicate  how  sedulously  he  was  on  his 
guard  to  conform  to  that  plan.  Those  who  have  not  attended 
to  the  important  distinction  just  alluded  to,  are  often  dis- 
posed to  feel  wonder,  if  not  weariness,  at  his  reiterated  re- 
marks, that  ^^all  men  effect  persuasion  either  in  this  way  or 
in  that;"  "it  is  impossible  to  attain  such  and  such  an  object 
in  any  other  way,"  etc. ;  which  doubtless  were  intended  to 
remind  his  readers  of  the  nature  of  his  design ;  viz.,  rfot  to 
teach  an  art  of  Rhetoric,  but  tTie  art :  not  to  instruct  them 
merely  how  conviction  might  be  produced,  but  how  it  must.^ 
If  this  distinction  were  carefully  kept  in  view  by  the 
teacher  and  by  the  learner  of  Rhetoric,  we  should  no  longer 
hear  complaints  of  the  natural  powers  being  fettered  by  the 
formalities  of  a  system ;  since  no  such  complaint  can  lie 
against  a  system  whose  rules  are  drawn  from  the  invariable 
practice  of  all  who  succeed  ip  attaining  their  proposed  object. 
No  one  would  expect  that  the  study  of  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds's lectures  would  cramp  the  genius  of  the  painter.  No 
one  complains  of  the  rules  of  Grramniar  as  fettering  lan- 
<r  guage;  because  it  is  understood  that  correct  use  is  not 
■  founded  on  Grammar,  but  Grammar  on  correct  use.  A  just 
system  of  Logic  or  of  Rhetoric  is  analogous,  in  this  respect, 
to  Grammar. 

*  See  Appendix,  note  [AA.] 


§  4.]  INTRODUCTION.  29 

One  may  still,  however,  sometimes  hear — thougli  less  now 
than  a  few  years  back — the  hackneyed  objections 
ac;ainst  Lo";ic  and  Rhetoric,  and  even  Grammar      Popular  ob- 

r  rx-  1         1  1        •      1    r         »     •         1  jeotions. 

also.  Cicero  has  been  gravely  cited  (as  Aristotle 
might  have  been  also,  in  the  passage  just  above  alluded  to, 
in  his  very  treatise  on  Rhetoric)  to  testify  that  rhetorical 
rules  are  derived  from  the  practice  of  oratory,  and  not  vice 
versa)  and  that,  consequentl}",  there  must  have  been — as 
there  still  is — such  a  thing  as  a  speaker  ignorant  of  those 
rules.  A  drayman,  we  are  told,  will  taunt  a  comrade  by  say- 
ing, '^  You  're  a  pretty  fellow,"  without  having  learned  that 
he  is  employing  the  figure  called  irony ;  and  may  employ 
^'will"  and  ''shalF'  correctly,  without  being  able  to  explain 
the  principle  that  gtiides  him.  And  it  might  have  been 
added,  that  perhaps  he  will  go  home  whistling  a  tune,  though 
lie  docs  not  know  the  name  of  a  note ',  that  he  will  stir  his 
fire,  without  knowing  that  he  is  employing  the  first  kind  of 
lever  ;*  and  that  he  will  set  his  kettle  on  it  to  boil,  though 
ignorant  of  the  theory  of  caloric,  and  of  all  the  technical 


*  It  is  a  curious  circumstance,  that  no  longer  ago  than  the  early 
part  of  the  last  century,  mathcTnalical  studies  were  a  common  topic 
of  cbntemptuous  ridicule  among  those  ignorant  of  the  subjeat;  just 
as  is  the  case,  to  a  certain  extent,  even  now,  with  Logic,  (including 
great  part  of  the  matter  treated  of  in  this  volume,)  *vith  Political 
Economy,  and  some  others.  Pope  speaks  of  what  he  calls  "mad 
Mathesis,"  as  "running  round  the  circle,"  and  "finding  it  square!" 
One  may  find  also  among  the  fugitive  poetry  of  his  times,  descrip- 
tions of  a  mathematician  as  something  between  fool  and  madman. 
And  Swift's  Voyage  to  Laputa  evinces  his  utter  contempt  for  such 
studies,  and  likewise  his  utter  ignorance  of  them.  He  ridicules  the 
Laputans  for  having  their  bread  cut  into  "cycloids,"  which  he  con- 
ceived to  be  the  name  of  a  solid  figure;  and  he  (Newton's  contempo- 
rary) indicates  his  conviction  that  the  Aristotelian  System  of  Astro- 
nomy was  on  a  level  with  all  others,  and  that  various  systems  would 
always  be  successively  coming  into  fashion  and  going  out 'again,  like 
modes  of  dress. 

Now  the  case  is  altered,  as  far  as  regards  mathematical  pursuits, 
which  are  respected  even  by  those  not  versed  in  them ;  but  those 
other  sciences  abbve  referred  to,  though  studied  by  a  very  consider- 
able and  daily  increasing  number,  are  still  sneered  at — as  was  for- 
merly the  case  with  Mathematics — .by  many  of  those  who  have  not 
studied  them,  (including  some  mathematicians,)  and  who  know  no 
more  of  the  subject  than  Swift  did  of  cycloids. 


30  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [§  4. 

vocabulary  of  Chemistry.  In  short,  of  the  two  premises 
requisite  for  the  conclusion  contended  for,  the  one  about 
which  there  can  be  no  possible  doubt  is 'dwelt  on,  and  elabo- 
rately proved ;  and  the  other,  which  is  very  disputable,  is 
tacitly  assumed.  That  the  systems  of  Logic,  llhetoric,  G-ram- 
mar,  Music,  Mechanics,  etc.,  must  have  been  preceded  by 
the  practice  of  speaking,- singing,  etc.,  which  no  one  ever  did 
or  can  doubt,  is  earnestly  insisted  on  ^  but  that  every  system 
of  which  this  can  be  said  must  consequently  be  mere  useless 
trifling,  which  is  at  least  a  paradox,  is  quietly  taken  for 
granted ;  or,  at  least,  is  supposed  to  be  sufficiently  established, 
by  repeating,  in  substance,  the  poet's  remark,  tl^at 

" all  a  rhetorician's  rules 


But  teach  him  how  to  name  his  tools ;" 

and  by  observing  that,  for  the  most  difficult  points  of  all, 
natural  genius  and  experience  must  do  every  thing,  and  sys- 
tems of  art  nothing. 

To  this  latter  remark  it  might  have  been  added,  that  in  no 
t  department  can  systems  of  art  equalize  men  of  different  de- 
grees of  original  ability  and  of  experience;  or  teach  us  to 
accomplish  all  that  is  aimed  at.  No  system  of  agriculture 
can  create  land )  nor  can  the  art  military  teach  us  to  produce, 
like  Cadmus,  armed  soldiers  out  of  the  earth ;  though  land, 
and  soldiers,  are  as  essential  to  the  practice  of  these  arts,  as 
the  well-known  preliminary  admonition  in  the  cookery-book, 
"  First  take  your  carp,''  is  to  the  culinary  art.  Nor  can  all 
the  books  that  ever  were  written  bring  to  a  level  with  a  man 
of  military  genius  and  experience,  a  person  of  ordinary 
ability  who  has  never  seen  service. 

As  for  the  remark  about  "naming  one's  tools,"  which,  with 
fair  allowance  for  poetical  exaggeration,  may  be  admitted  to 
be  near  the  truth,  it  should  be  remembered,  that  if  an  in- 
ference be  thence  drawn  of  the  uselessness  of  being  thus  pro- 
vided with  names,  we  must  admit,  by  parity  of  reasoning, 
that  it  would  be  no  inconvenience  to  a  carpenter,  or  any  other 
mechanic,  to  have  no  names  for  the  several  operations  of  saw- 
ing,  2iloining,  boring,  etc.,  in  which  he  is  habitually  eugaged, 
or  for  the  tools  with  which  he  performs  them ;  and,  in  like 
manner,  that  it  would  also  be  no  loss  to  be  without  names — 


§  4.]  INTRODUCTION.  31 

or  without  precise,  appropriate,  and  brief  names — for  the 
various  articles  of  dress  and  furniture  that  we  use,  for  the 
limbs  and  other  bodily  organs,  and  the  plants,  animals,  and 
other  objects  around  us;  in  short,  that  it  would  be  little  or 
no  evil  to  have  a  language  as  imperfect  as  Chinese,  or  no  lan- 
guage at  all. 

The  simple  truth  is,  technical  terms  are  a  part  of 
LANGUAGE.  Now  any  portion  of  one's  language 
that  relates  to  employments  and  situations  for-  S-m"*^'^^ 
cign  from  our  own,  there  is  little  need  to  be  ac- 
quainted with.  Nautical  terms,  e.  g.,  it  is  little  loss  to  a  land- 
man to  be  ignorant  of;  though,  to  a  sailor,  they  are  as  need- 
ful as  any  part  of  language  is  to  any  one.  And  again,  a 
deficiency  in  the  proper  language  of  some  one  department, 
even  though  one  we  are  not  wholly  unconcerned  in,  is  not 
felt  as  a  very  heavy  inconvenience.  But  if  it  were  absolutely 
no  disadvantage  at  all,  then  it  is  plain  the  same  might  be  said 
of  a  still  further  deficiency  of  a  like  character;  and  ulti- 
mately we  should  arrive  at  the  absurdity  above  noticed,  the 
usclessness  of  language  altogether. 

But  though  this  is  an  absurdity  which  all  would  perceive, 
though  none  would  deny  the  importance  of  lan- 
guage, the  full  extent  and  real  character  of  that  ^n^^ua^cre*^^ 
importance  is  far  from  being  universally  under- 
stood. There  are  still  (as  is  remarked  in  the  Logic,  In  trod., 
§  5)  many — though  I  believe  not  near  so  many  as  a  few  years 
back — who,  irquestioned  on  the  subject,  would  answer  that 
the  use  of  lans-uaoje  in  to  communicate  our  thousrhts  to  each 
other ;  and  that  it  is  peculiar  to  man  :  the  truth  being  that 
that  use  of  language  is  not  peculiar  to  man,  though  enjoyed 
by  him  in  a  much  higher  degree  than  by  the  brutes ;  while 
that  which  does  distinguish  man  from  brute,  is  another,  and 
quite  distinct,  use  of  language,  viz.,  as  an  instrument  of 
thought — a  system  of  general  signs,  without  which  the  reason- 
ing process  could  not  be  conducted.  The  full  importance, 
consequently,  of  language,  and  of  precise  technical  language — 
of  haying  accurate  and  well-defined  "names  for  one's  tools" — 
can  never  be  duly  appreciated  by  those  who  still  cling  to 
the  theory  of  "ideas  :"  those  imaginary  objects  of  thought  in 
the  mind,  of  which  "  common  terms"  are  merely  the  names, 
and  by  means  of  which  we  are  supposed  to  be  able  to  do  what 


32  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [§  5. 

I  am  convinced  is  impossible — to  carry  on  a  train  of  reasoning 
without  the  use  of  language  or  of  any  general  signs  what- 
ever. 

But  each,  in  proportion  as  he  the  more  fully  embraces  the 
doctrine  of  NoininaUsmj  and  consequently  understands  the 
real  character  of  language,  will  become  the  better  qualified  to 
estimate  the  importance  of  an  accurate  system  of  nomencla- 
ture. 

^'  §5.  ' 

The  chief  reason  probably  for  the  existing  prejudice  against 

technical  systems  of  composition,  is  to  be  found 
colnposftion.     '^^  *^®  Cramped,  meagre,  and  feeble  character  of 

most  of  such  essays,  etc.,  as  are  avowedly  com- 
posed according  to  the  rules  of  any  such  system.  It  should 
be  remembered,  however,  in  the  first  place,  ^hat  these  are 
almost  invariably  the  productions  of  learners  }  it  being  usual 
for  those  who  have  attained  proficiency,  either  to  write  with- 
out thinking  of  any  rules,  or  to  be  desirous,  (as  has  been  said,) 
and,  by  their  increased  expertness,  able,  to  conceal  their  em- 
ployment of  art.  Now  it  is  not  fair  to  judge  of  the  value  of 
any  system  of  rules — those  of  a  drawing-master,  for  instance — 
from  the  first  awkward  sketches  of  tyros  in  the  art. 

Still  less  would  it  be  fair  to  judge  of  one  system  from  the 
ill  success  of  another,  whose  rules  were  framed  (as  is  the  case 
with  those  ordinarily  laid  down  for  the  use  of  students  in 
composition)  on  narrow,  unphilosophical,  and  erroneous  prin- 
ciples. 

But  the  circumstance  which  has  mainly  tended  to  produce 

the  complaint  alluded  to  is,  that  in  this  case  the 
sui^'ects  for  reverse  takes  place  of  the  plan  pursued  in  the 
tion'of"^*^"'^*'  learning  of  other  arts ;  in  which  it  is  usual  to 
cises.  begin,  for  the  sake  of  practice,   with  what   is 

easiest:  here,  on  the  contrary,  the  tyro  has 
usually  a  harder  task  assigned  him,  and  one  in  which  he  is 
less  likely  to  succeed,  than  he  will  meet  with  in  the  victual 
business  of  life.  For  it  is  undeniable  that  it  is  much  the 
most  difficult  to  find  either  propositions  to  maintain,  or  argu- 
ments to  prove  them — to  know,  in  short,  what  to  say,  or  how 
to  say  it — on  any  subject  on  which  one  has  hardly  any  infor- 


§  5.]  INTRODUCTION.  33 

mation,  and  no  interest  j  about  wliicli  lie  knows  little,  and 
cares  still  less. 

Now  the  subjects  usually  proposed  for  school  or  college  ex- 
ercises are  (to  the  learners  themselves)  precisely  of  this  de- 
scription. And  hence  it  commonly  happens,  that  an  exercise 
composed  with  diligent  care  by  a  young  student,  though  it 
will  have  cost  him  far  more  pains  than  a  real  letter  written 
by  him  to  his  friends,  on  subjects  that  interest  him,  will  be 
very  greatly  inferior  to  it.  On  the  real  occasions  of  after  life, 
(I  mean,  when  the  object  proposed  is,  not  to  fill  up  a  sheet, 
a  book,  or  an  hour,  but  to  communicate  his  thoughts,  to  con- 
vince, or  persuade,)  on  these  real  occasions,  for  which  such 
exercises  were  designed  to  prepare  him,  he  will  find  that  he 
writes  both  better,  and  with  more  facility,  than  on  the  arti- 
Jicial  occasion,  as  it  may  be  called,  of  composing  a  declama- 
tion— that  he  has  been  attempting  to  learn  the  easier,  by 
practicing  the  harder. 

But  what  is  worse,  it  will  often  happen  that  such  exercises 
will  have  formed  a  habit  of  stringing  together 
empty  commonplaces  and  vapid  declamations —         often   '^'^^ 
of    multiplying   words    and    spreading   out   the         resulting 
matter  thin — of  composing  in  a  stiff,  artificial,         exercises. 
and  frigid  manner;  and  that  this  habit  will  more 
or  less  cling  through  life  to  one  who  has  been  thus  trained, 
and  will  infect  all  his  future  compositions. 

So  strongly,  it  should  seem,  was  Milton  impressed  with  a 
sense  of  this  danger,  that  he  was  led  to  condemn  the  use  alto- 
gether of  exercises  in  composition.  In  this  opinion  he  stands 
perhaps  alone  among  all  writers  on  education.  I  should  per- 
haps agree  with  him,  if  there  were  absolutely  no  other  remedy 
for  the  evil  in  question  ]  for  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  this 
part  of  education,  if  conducted  as  it  often  is,  does  in  general 
more  harm  than  good.  But  I  am  convinced  that  practice  in 
composition,  both  for  boys  and  young  men,  may  be  so  con- 
ducted as  to  be  productive  of  many  and  most  essential  ad- 
vantages. 

The  obvious  and  the  only  preventive  of  the  evils  which 

I  have  been  speaking  of,  is  a  most  scrupulous  care 

•      ,1  1     i.-  c         \         1  ■     ±     V         '         •  Selection  of 

m  the  selection  oi  such  subjects  tor  exercises  as      subjects. 

are  likely  to  be  interesting  to  the  student,  and  on 

which  he  has  (or  may,  with  pleasure,  and  without  much  toil^ 

2 


34  ELE3IENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [§  5* 

acquire)  sufficient  information  Such  subjects  will  of  course 
vary,  according  to  the  learner's  age  and  intellectual  advance- 
ment j  but  they  had  better  be  rather  below  than  much  above 
him ;  that  is,  they  should  never  be  such  as  to  induce  him  to 
string  together  vague  general  expressions,  conveying  no  dis- 
tinct ideas  to  his  own  mind,  and  second-hand  sentiments 
which  he  does  not  feel.  He  may  freely  transplant  indeed 
from  other  writers  such  thoughts  as  will  take  root  in  the  soil 
of  his  own  mind,  but  he  must  never  be  tempted  to  collect 
dried  specimens.  He  must  also  be  encouraged  to  express 
himself  (in  correct  language  indeed,  but)  in  a  free,  natural, 
and  simple  style ;  which  of  course  implies  (considering  who 
and  what  the  writer  is  supposed  to  be)  such  a  style  as,  in 
itself,  would  be  open  to  severe  criticism,  and  certainly  very 
unfit  to  appear  in  a  book. 

Compositions  on  such  subjects,  and  in  such  a  style,  would 
probably  be  regarded  with  a  disdainful  eye,  as  puerile,  by 
those  accustomed  to  the  opposite  mode  of  teaching.  But  it 
should  be  remembered  that  the  compositions  of  boys  must  be 
jiuerile,  in  one  way  or  the  other ;  and  to  a  person  of  unso- 
phisticated and  sound  taste,  the  truly  contemptible  kind  of 
puerility  would  be  found  in  the  other  kind  of  exercises. 
Look  at  the  letter  of  an  intelligent  youth  to  one  of  his  com- 
panions, communicating  intelligence  of  such  petty  matters  as 
are  interesting  to  both — describing  the  scenes  he  has  visited, 
and  the  recreations  he  has  enjoyed  during  a  vacation;  and 
you  will  see  a  picture  of  the  youth  himself — boyish  indeed 
in  looks  and  in  stature,  in  dress  and  in  demeanor,  but  lively, 
unfettered,  natural,  giving  a  fair  promise  for  manhood,  and, 
in  short,  what  a  boy  should  be.  Look  at  a  theme  composed 
by  the  same  youth  on  "  Virtus  est  medium  vitiorum,''  or 
^'■N'atura  heatis  omnibus  esse  dedit,"  and  you  will  see  a  pic- 
ture of  the  same  boy,  dressed  up  in  the  garb  and  absurdly 
aping  the  demeanor  of  an  elderly  man.  Our  ancestors  (and 
still  more  recently,  I  believe,  the  continental  nations)  were 
guilty  of  the  absurdity  of  dressing  up  children  in  wigs,  swords, 
huge  buckles,  hoops,  ruffles,  and  all  the  elaborate  full-dressed 
finery  of  grown-up  people  of  that  day.*  It  is  surely  reason- 
able that  the  analogous  absurdity  in  greater  matters  also — 

*  See  *'Sanford  and  Merton,"  passim. 


§  5.]  INTRODUCTION.  35 

anion g  tlie  rest  in  that  part  of  education  I  am  speaking  of — 
should  be  laid  aside ;  and  that  we  should  in  all  points  con- 
sider what  is  appropriate  to  each  different  period  of  life. 

The  subjects  for  composition  to  be  selected  on  the  principle 
I  am  recommending,  will  generally  fall  under  one  classes  of 
of  three  classes  :  first,  subjects  drawn  from  the  subjects  for 
studies  the  learner  is  engaged  in ;  relating,  for  ^xeicises. 
instance,  to  the  characters  or  incidents  of  any  history  he  may 
be  reading ;  and  sometimes,  perhaps,  leading  him  to  forestall, 
by  conjecture,  something  which  he  will  hereafter  come  to  in 
the  book  itself;  secondly,  subjects  drawn  from  any  conversa- 
tion he  may  have  listened  to  (with  interest)  from  his  seniors, 
whether  addressed  to  himself,  or  between  each  other;  or; 
thirdly,  relating  to  the  amusements,  familiar  occurrences,  and 
every-day  transactions,  which  are  likely  to  have  formed  the 
topics  of  easy  conversation  among  his  familiar  friends.  The 
student  should  not  be  confined  exclusively  to  any  one  of  these 
three  classes  of  subjects  :  they  should  be  intermingled  in  as' 
much  variety  as  possible.  And  the  teacher  should  fre- 
quently recall  to  his  own  mind  these  two  considerations  :  first, 
that  since  the  benefit  proposed  does  not  consist  in  the  intrinsic 
value  of  the  composition,  but  in  the  exercise  to  the  pupil's 
mind,  it  matters  not  how  insignificant  the  subject  may  be,  if 
it  will  but  interest  him,  and  thereby  afford  him  such  exer- 
cise ;  secondly/,  that  the  younger  and  backwarder  each  student 
is,  the  more  unfit  he  will  be  for  abstract  speculations,  and  the 
less  remote  must  be  the  subjects  proposed  from  those  indi- 
vidual objects  and  occurrences  which  always  form  the  first 
beginnings  of  the  furniture  of  the  youthful  mind.* 

It  should  be  added,  as  a  practical  rule  for  all  cases,  whether 
it  be  an  exercise  that  is  written  for  practice'  sake,  or  a  com- 


■"^  For  some  observations  relative  to  the  learning  of  Elocution,  see 
Part  IV.,  chap,  ii.,  g  5,  and  iv.,  §  2.  See  also  some  valuable  remarks 
on  the  subject  of  exercises  in  composition  in  Mr.  Hill's  ingenious 
vy^ork  on  Public  Education.  It  may  be  added,  that  if  the  teaclier  will, 
after  pointing  out  any  faults  in  the  learner's  exercise,  and  making 
liim  alter  or  rewrite  it,  if  necessary,  then  put  before  him  a  composi- 
tion on  the  same  subject  written  by  himself,  or  by  some  approved 
writer,  such  a  practice,  if  both  learner  and  teacher  have  patience 
antl  industry  enough  to  follow  it  up,  will  be  likely  to  produce  great 
improvement. 


36  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [§  6. 

position  on  some  real  occasion,  tliat  an  outline  should  be  first 
^.  ^  drawn  out — a  skeleton,  as  it  is  sometimes  called — 

of  outlines  or  of  tlic  substance  of  what  is  to  be  said.  The 
skeletons.  more  hriefly  this  is  done,  so  that  it  does  but 
exhibit  clearly  the  several  heads  of  the  composition,  the 
better )  because  it  is  important  that  the  whole  of  it  be  placed 
before  the  eye  and  the  mind  in  a  small  compass,  and  be  taken 
in  as  it  were  at  a  g-lance ;  and  it  should  be  written  therefore 
not  in  sentences,  but  like  a  table  of  contents.  Such  an  out- 
line should  not  be  allowed  to  fetter  the  writer,  if,  in  the  course 
of  the  actual  composition,  he  find  any  reason  for  deviating 
from  his  original  plan.  It  should  serve  merely  as  a  track  to 
mark  out  a  path  for  him,  not  as  a  groove  to  confine  him. 
But  the  practice  of  drawing  out  such  a  skeleton  will  give  a 
coherence  to  the  composition,  a  due  proportion  of  its  several 
parts,  and  a  clear  and  easy  arrangement  of  them,  such  as  can 
rarely  be  attained  if  one  begins  by  completing  one  portion 
before  thinking  of  the  rest.  And  it  will  also  be  found  a  most 
useful  exercise  for  a  beginner  to  practice — if  possible  under 
the  eye  of  a  judicious  lecturer — the  drawing  out  of  a  great 
number  of  such  skeletons  more  than  he  subsequently  fills  up; 
and  likewise  to  practice  the  analyzing  in  the  same  way  the 
compositions  of  another,  whether  read  or  heard. 

If  the  system  which  I  have  been  recommending  be  pur- 
sued, with  the  addition  of  sedulous  care  in  correction,  en- 
couragement from  the  teacher,  and  inculcation  of  such  general 
rules  as  each  occasion  calls  for,  then,  and  not  otherwise,  ex- 
ercises in  composition  will  be  of  the  most  important  and  last- 
ing advantage  ;  not  only  in  respect  of  the  object  immediateli/ 
proposed,  but  in  producing  clearness  of  thought,  and  in  giv- 
ing play  to  all  the  faculties.  And  if  this  branch  of  education 
be  thus  conducted,  then,  and  not  otherwise,  the  greater  part 
of  the  present  treatise  will,  it  is  hoped,  be  found  not  much 
less  adapted  to  the  use  of  those  who  are  writing  for  practice' 
sake,  than  of  those  engaged  in  meeting  the  occasions  of  real  life. 

§6. 

One  kind  of  exercise  there  is — that  of  Debating  Societies 

— which  ought  not  to  be  passed  unnoticed,  as 

PebatingSo-     difi"erent  opinions  prevail  respecting  its  utilfty. 

It  is   certainly  free  from  the  objections  which 


§  6.]  INTRODUCTION.  37 

lie  against  the  ordinary  mode  of  theme -writing;  since  the  \ 
subjects  discussed  are  usually  such  as  the  speakers  do  feel  a    * 
real  interest  in.     On  the  other  hand,  it  differs  from  the  ex- 
ercise afforded  by  the  practice  of  public  speaking  on  the  real 
occasions  of  life,  inasmuch  as  that  which  is  the  proper  object 
of  true  eloquence — to  carry,  one's  point,  to  convince  or  per- 
suade, rather  than  to  display  ability — is  more  likely  to  be  lost 
sight  of,  when  the  main  object  avowedly  is  to  lea^'u  to  speak  \ 
well,  and  to  show  how  well  one  can  speak;  not  to  establish  a 
certain  conclusion,  or  effect  the  adoption  of  a  certain  mea- 
sure. 

It  is  urged  in  favor  of  this  kind  of  exercise,  that  since  in 
every  art  a  beginner  must  expect  his  first  essays 
to  be  comparatively  unsuccessful,  a  man  who  has     andTt^ainst" 
not  had  this  kind  of  private  practice  beforehand     Debating 
must  learn  speaking  in  the  course  of  actual  busi- 
ness, and  consequently  at  the  expense  of  sundry  failures  in 
matters  of  real  importance.     Compared  with  those  who  have 
learned  in  Debating  Societies,  he  will  be  like  a  soldier  enter- 
ing the  field  of  battle  without  previous  drills  and  reviews, 
and  beginning  to  use  his  weapons  and  to  practice  his  evolu- 
tions for  the  first  time  in  actual  combat. 

And  there  is  undoubtedly  much  weight  in  this  reason. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  urged  that  there  are  dangers  to 
be  apprehended  from  the  very  eai'ljy  practice  of  extemporary 
speaking,  even  on  occasions  of  real  business ;  dangers  which 
are  of  course  enhanced,  where  it  is  7wt  real  business  that  the 
speaker  is  occupied  with. 

When  young  men's  faculties  are  in  an  immature  state,  and 
their  knowledge  scanty,  crude,  and  imperfectly  arranged,  if 
they  are  prematurely  hurried  into  a  habit  of  fluent  elocution, 
they  are  likely  to  retain  through  life  a  careless  facility  of 
pouring  forth  ill-digested  thoughts  in  well-turned  phrases, 
and  an  aversion  to  cautious  reflection.  For  when  a  man  has  v;^ 
acquired  that  habit  of  ready  extemporaneous  speaking  which 
consists  in  tliinking  extempore,  both  his  indolence  and  self- 
confidence  will  indispose  him  for  the  toil  of  carefully  prepar- 
ing his  matter,  and  of  forming  for  himself,  by  practice  in 
writing,  a  precise  and  truly  energetic  style ;  and  he  will  have 
been  qualifying  himself  only  for  the  ^'  lion's  part"  in  the  in- 


38  ELEMENTS   OF   RIIETORIO.  '  [§  6. 

terlude  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe.*  On  the  other  hand,  a  want 
of  readiness  of  expression,  in  a  man  of  well-disciplined  mind, 
who  has  attentively  studied  his  subject,  is  a  fault  much  more 
curable  by  practice,  even  late  in  life,  than  the  opposite. 

In  reference  to  this  subject,  I  cannot  refrain  from  citing 
some  valuable  remarks  from  an.  article  in  the  ^^Edinhurgh 
Review  ;"f 

"...  A  politician  must  often  talk  and  act  before  he  has 
thought  and  read.  He  may  be  very  ill-informed  respecting 
a  question ;  all  his  notions  about  it  may  be  vague  and  inac- 
curate ;  but  speak  he  must ;  and  if  he  is  a  man  of  talents,  of 
tact,  and  of  intrepidity,  he  soon  finds  that,  even  under  such 
circumstances,  it  is  possible  to  speak  successfully.  He  finds 
that  there  is  a  great  difference  between  the  effect  of  written 
words,  which  are  perused  and  reperused  in  the  stillness  of 
the  closet,  and  the  effect  of  spoken  words  which,  set  off  by 
the  graces  of  utterance  and  gesture,  vibrate  for  a  single  mo- 
ment on  the  ear.  He  finds  that  he  may  blunder  without 
much  chance  of  being  detected,  that  he  may  reason  sophisti- 
cally,  and  escape  unrefuted.  He  finds  that,  even  on  knotty 
questions  of  trade  and  legislation,  he  can,  without  reading- 
ten  pages  or  thinking  ten  minutes,  draw  forth  loud  plaudits, 
and  sit  down  with  the  credit  of  having  made  an  excellent 
speech.  Lysias,  says  Plutarch,  wrote  a  defence  for  a  man 
who  was  to  be  tried  before  one  of  the  Athenian  tribunals. 
Long  before  the  defendant  had  learned  the  speech  by  heart, 
he  became  so  much  dissatisfied  with  it  that  he  went  in  great 
distress  to  the  author.  ^I  was  delighted  with  your  speech 
the  first  time  I  read  it;  but  I  liked  it  less  the  second  time, 
and  still  less  the  third  time )  and  now  it  seems  to  me  to  be 
no  defence  at  all.'  'My  good  friend,'  said  Lysias,  'you  quite 
forget  that  the  judges  are  to  hear  it  only  once.'  The  case  is 
tlie  same  in  the  English  parliament.  It  would  be  as  idle  in 
an  orator  to  waste  deep  meditation  and  long  research  on  his 
speeches,  as  it  would  be  in  the  manager  of  a  theatre  to  adorn 
all  the  crowd  of  courtiers  and  ladies  who  cross  over  the  stage 

*  **  Snug. — Have  you  the  lion's  part  written  ?  Pray  you,  if  it  be, 
give  it  me ;  for  I  am  slow  of  study. 

"Quince. — You  may  do  it  extempore;  for  it  is  notldng  but  roar- 
ing.^'— Midsummer  NighCs  Dream. 

t  April,  1839. 


§  C-]  .  INTRODUCTION.  "  39 

in  a  procession  with  real  pearls  and  diamonds.     It,  is  not  by 
accuracy  or  profundity  that  men  become  the  masters  of  i^reat 
assemblies.     And  why  be  at  the  charge  of  providing  Toiric 
of  the   best  quality,  when   a  very  inferior  article   will  "be 
equally  acceptable '/      Why  go  as   deep   into  a  question,  as 
Burke,  only  in  ordCr  to  be,  like  Burke,  coughed  down,  or 
left  speaking  to  green  benches  and  red  boxes?     This  has 
long  appeared  to  us  to  be  the  most  serious  of  the  evils  which 
are  to  be  set  off  against  the  many  blessings  of  popular  gov- 
ernment.    It  is  a  fine  and  true  saying  of  Bacon,  that  reading 
makes  a  full  man,  talking  a  ready  man,  and  writing  an  exact 
man.     The  tendency  of  institutions  like  those  of  England  is 
to  encourage  readiness  in  public  men,  at  the  expense  1)oth  of 
fulness  and  of  exactness.     The  keenest  and  most  vigorous 
minds  of  every  generation,  minds  often  admirably  fitted  for 
the  investigation  of  truth,  are  habitually  employed  in  pro- 
ducing arguments  such  as  no  man  of  sense  would  ever  put 
into  a  treatise  intended  for  publication,  arguments  which  are 
just  good  enough  to  be  used  once,  when  aided  by  fluent  de- 
livery and  pointed  language.     The  habit  of  discussing  ques- 
tions in  this  way  necessarily  reacts  on  the  intellects  of  our 
ablest  men ;   particularly  of  those  who  are  introduced  into 
parliament  at  a  very  early  age,  before  their  minds  have  ex- 
panded to  l\ill  maturity.     The  talent  for  debate  is  developed 
in  such  men  to  a  degree  which,  to  the  multitude,  seems  as 
marvellous  as  the  performances  of  an  Italian  iinprovisatore. 
But  they  arc  fortunate  indeed  if  they  retain  unimpaired  the 
faculties  which  are  required  for  close  reasoning  or  for  en- 
larged speculation.     Indeed,  we  should  sooner  expect  a  great 
original  work  on  political  science,  such  a  work,  for  example, 
as  the  ^Wealth  of  Natiom,'  from  an  apothecary  in  a  country 
town,  or  from  a  minister  in  the  Hebrides,  than  from  a  states- 
man who,  ever  since  he  was  one-and-twenty,  had  been  a  dis- 
tinguished debater  in  the  House  of  Commons.'' 

It  may  be  said,  however,  in  reference  to  the  above  remarks, 
that  they  do  not  prove  any  thing  against  the  beneficial  eflfects, 
with  a  view  to  oratorical  excellence,  (which  is  the 
point  now  in  question,)  of  early  practice  in  ex-  ?oiionor^ '''' 
temporary  speaking,  and,  accoi^ingly,  of  that  f">".a:iit  at  the 
afforded  by  Debating  Societies.  This  excellence  orilei' qua'if- 
may  indeed,  we  will  suppose,  be  purchased  at  the   ^'''^' 


40  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.        .  [§  6. 

expense  of  impairing  the  philosophical  powers,  and,  on  the 
whole,  deteriorating  the  mind ;  but  the  present  question  is 
as  to  the  mere  improvement  of  oratory.  I  will  not  indeed 
undertake  to  say  that  a  man  may  not  obtain  an  earlier — per- 
haps even  a  greater — proficiency  in  public  speaking  (espe- 
cially with  a  view  to  immediate  effect)  by  sacrificing  to  that 
object  every  other.  But  I  doubt  whether  the  advantage  to 
be  gained,  even  at  such  a  cost,  is  not  sometimes  itself  over- 
rated. One  speaker  may  have  over  another,  who  is  a  sounder 
reasoner  and  a  man  of  more  generally  well-cultivated  mind, 
an  advantage  more  ajyparent  than  real ;  he  may  excite  more 
admiration  and  be  received  with  greater  present  applause, 
and  yet  may  produce  less  conviction  and  less  of  permanent 
influence  :  the  words  of  the  other  may  sink  deeper.  And 
again,  a  showy  and  fluent  but  superficial  orator,  who  may 
seem  at  the  moment  to  be  carrying  every  thing  before  him 
triumphantly,  may  be  ansioered  by  those  capable  of  discern- 
ing and  exposing  any  weakness  in  his  arguments.  Moreover, 
that  which  will  "  only  bear  to  be  heard  once,'^  may  subse- 
quently be  read  over  calmly,  and  its  emptiness  detected. 
There  are,  in  short,  but  few  cases  in  which  accurate  and 
well-digested  knowledge,  sound  judgment,  and  clear  and  well- 
arranged  arguments,  will  not  have  great  weight,  even  when 
opposed  by  more  showy  but  unsubstantial  qualifications. 

Although,  however,  I  am  convinced  that  an  earl3^-acquired 
habit  of  empty  fluency  is  adverse  to  a  man's  success  as  an 
orator,  I  will  not  undertake  to  say  that,  as  an  orator,  his 
attaining  the  very  highest  degree  of  success  will  be  the  more 
likely,  from  his  possessing  the  most  philosophical  mind, 
trained  to  the  most  scrupulous  accuracy  of  investigation. 
Inestimable  in  other  respects  as  such  an  endowment  is,  and 
certainly  compatible  with  very  great  eloquence,  I  doubt 
whether  the  liigliest  degree  of  it  is  compatible  with  the  liigli- 
cst  degree  o^  general  oratorical  power.  If  at  least  that  man 
is  to  be  accounted  the  most  perfect  orator  who  (as  Cicero  lays 
down)  can  speak  the  best  and  most  persuasively  on  any  ques- 
tion whatever  that  may  arise,  it  may  fairly  be  doubted  whether 
a  first-rate  'man  can  he  a  first-rate  orator.  He  may  indeed 
speak  admirably  in  a  matter  he  has  well  considered ;  but 
when  any  new  subject  or  new  point  is  started  in  the  course 
of  a  debate,  though  he  may  take  a  juster  view  of  it  at  the 


J 


§  G.]  INTRODUCTION.  41 

first  glance,  on  the  exigency  of  tlie  moment,  than  any  one 
else  could,  he  will  not  i'ail  —  as  a  man  of  more  superficial 
cleverness  would — to  perceive  how  impossible  it  must  be  to 
do  full  justice  to  a  subject  demanding  more  reflection  and  in- 
quiry ;  nor  can  he,  therefore,  place  himself  fully  on  a  level, 
in  such  a  case,  with  one  of  shallower  mind,  who  being  in  all  . 
cases  less  able  to  look  beneath  the  surface  of  things,  obtains  Q 
at  the  first  glance  the  best  view  he  can  take  of  any  subject, 
and  therefore  can  display,  without  any  need  of  artifice,  that 
easy,  unembarrassed  confidence  which  cai;i  never  be,  with 
equal  effect,  assumed.  To  speak  perfectly  well,  in  short,  a 
man  must  feel  that  he  has  got  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject  j 
and  to  feel  this  on  occasions  where,  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  it  is  impossible  he  really  can  have  done  so,  is  incon- 
sistent with  the  character  of  great  profundity. 

Moreover,  a  person  who  is  a  little,  and  not  very  much,  be-, 
yond  the  generality,  will  often  be  able  to  devise  new  and 
striking  arguments  in  defence  of  popular  errors,  though  not 
to  perceive  that  they  o?'c  errors ;  and  will  have  just  sufiicient 
ingenuity  to  frame  plausible  sophisms,  and  to  express  them 
forcibly,  though  not  to  detect  them.  And  this — which  will 
often  conduce  to  \iis  j^re sent  success  at  least — he  will  be  likely 
to  do  with  an  air  of  natural  earnestness  which  it  would  have 
been  hardly  possible  to  put  on,  supposing  him  aware  of  the 
unsoundness  of  what  he  is  saying.  When  Hervey,  the  dis- 
coverer of  the  circulation,  (by  which  he  lost  much  of  his 
practice,)  was  decried  by  the  medical  world,  those  doubtless 
argued  best  against  him  who  really  disbelieved  his  discovery. 
And  when  Dean  Tucker  first  pointed  out  that  the  separation 
of  our  American  Colonies  would  be  no  loss  to  the  empire — 
for  which  he  was  universally  derided,  though  now  and  for  the 
last  half  century  the  correctness  of  his  view  is  universally 
admitted — the  great  orators  of  his  day  doubtless  argued 
against  him  all  the  better  from  being  themselves  partakers  of 
the  general  delusion. 

To  return  to  the  practical  question  respecting  Debating 
Societies,  it  would  appear,  on  balancing  together  what  can  be 
said  for  and  against  them,  that  the  advantages  they  hold  out, 
though  neither  unreal  nor  inconsiderable,  are  not  unattended 
by  considerable  dangers,  which    should   be  very  carefully 


42  ELEMENTS    OF    RHETORIC.  [§  6. 

guarded  against,  lest  more  evil  than   good  should   be  the 
result. 

An  early  introduction  to  this  kind  of  practice  is  especially 

to  be  deprecated,  for  the  reasons  above  stated ) 

Tioe  m^ilebat-  a^d  it  should  be  preceded  not  only  by  general 

ing  Societies    cultivation  of  the  mind,  but  also  by  much  prac- 

111  CVll»  •  •  • 

tice  in  writing ;  if  possible  under  the  guidance 
of  a  competent  instructor :  an  exercise  which  it  is  also  most 
desirable  not  to  discontinue  when  the  practice  of  speaking 
extempore  is  com;iienced.  And  the  substance  of  what  is  to 
be  spoken  on  each  occasion  should  be,  after  reflection,  written 
down ;  not  in  the  words  designed  to  be  uttered,  (for  that 
would,  instead  of  a  help  towards  the  habit  of  framing  expres- 
sions extempore,  prove  an  embarrassment,)  but  in  brief  heads, 
forming  such  an  outline  as  in  the  preceding  section  has  been 
recommended ;  that  as  little  as  possible  be  left  for  the  speaker 
to  frame  at  the  moment  except  the  mere  expressions.  By  de- 
grees, when  practice  shall  have  produced  greater  self-posses- 
sion and  readiness,  a  less  and  less  full  outline  previously  writ- 
ten down  will  suffice;  and  in  time  the  habit  will  be  generated 
of  occasionally  even  forming  correct  judgments,  and  sound 
and  well-expressed  arguments,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment. 

But  2i  premature  readiness  is  more  likely  than  the  opposite 
extreme  to  lead  to  incurable  faults.  And  all  the  dangers 
that  attend  this  kind  of  exercise,  the  learner  who  is  engaged 
in  it  should  fre([uently  recall  to  his  mind  and  reflect  on,  that 
he  may  the  better  guard  against  them ;  never  allowing  him- 
self, in  one  of  these  mock-debates,  to  maintain  any  thing 
that  he  himself  believes  to  be  untrue,  or  to  use  an  argument 
which  he  perceives  to  be  fallacious. 

.  The  temptation  to  transgress  this  rule  will  often  be  very 
strong;  because,  to  such  persons  as  usually  form  the  majority 
in  one  of  those  societies — youths  of  immature  judgment, 
superficial,  and  half-educated — specious  falsehood  and  sophis- 
try will  often  appear  superior  to  truth  and  sound  reasoning, 
and  will  call  forth  louder  plaudits ;  and  the  wrong  side  of  a 
(juestion  will  often  aflbrd  room  for  such  a  captivating  show 
of  ingenuity,  as  to  be,  to  them,  more  easily  maintained  than 
the  right.  And  scruples  of  conscience,  relative  to  veracity 
and  fairness,  are  not  unlikely  to  be  silenced  by  the  consider- 
ation that  after  all  it  is  no  real  battle,  but  a  tournament; 


§  6.]  INTRODUCTION.  43 

there  being  no  real  and  important  measure  to  be  actually  de- 
cided on,  but  only  a  debate  carried  on  for  practice'  sake. 

But  unreal  as  is  the  occasion,  and  insignificant  as  may  be 
the  particular  point,  a  habit  may  be  formed  which  will  not 
easily  be  unlearned  afterwards,  of  disregarding  right  reason, 
and  truth,  and  fair  argument.  And  such  a  habit  is  not  merely 
debasing  to  the  moral  character,  but  also,  in  a  rhetorical  point 
of  view,  if  I  may  so  speak,  often  proves  hurtful.  It  has  often 
weakened  the  effect,  to  a  far  greater  degree  than  most  persons 
suppose,  of  what  has  been  written  and  said  by  men  of  great 
ability;  by  depriving  it  of  that  air  of  simple  truthfulness 
which  has  so  winning  a  force,  and  which  it  is  so  impossible 
completely  to  feign. 


44  ELEMENTS    OF   RHETORIC:  [PART   I. 


PART    I. 

OF   THE  INVENTION,  ARRANGEMENT,  AND  INTRODUCTION 
OF  PROPOSITIONS  AND  ARGUMENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF    PROPOSITIONS. 


It  was  remarked  in  the  treatise  on  Logic,  that  in  the  pro- 
cess of  investigation,  properly  so  called,  viz.,  that 
tmth'^nd  af-  ^J  which  WG  cndeavor  to  discover  truth,  it  must 
ter  arguments  of  coursc  b^  Uncertain  to  him  who  is  entering:  on 
that  process,  what  the  conclusion  will  be  to  which 
his  researches  will  lead ;  but  that  in  the  process  of  conveying 
truth  to  others  by  reasoning,  (i.  e.,  in  what  may  be  termed, 
according  to  the  view  I  have  at  present  taken,  the  rhetorical 
process,)  the  conclusion  or  conclusions  which  are  to  be  estab- 
lished must  be  present  to  the  mind  of  him  who  is  conducting 
the  argument,  and  whose  business  is  to  findproo/i*  of  a  given 
proposition. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  first  step  to  be  taken  by 
him,  is  to  lay  down  distinctly  in  his  own  mind  the  propo- 
sition or  propositions  to  be  proved.  It  might  indeed  •  at 
first  sight  appear  superfluous  even  to  mention  so  obvious  a 
rule  j  but  experience  shows  that  it  is  by  no  means  uncom- 
mon for  a  young  or  ill-instructed  writer  to  content  himself 
with  such  a  vague  and  indistinct  view  of  the  point  he  is  to 
aim  at,  that  the  whole  train  of  his  reasoning  is  in  conse- 
quence affected  with  a  corresponding  perplexity,  obscurity, 
and  looseness.     It   may  be  worth  while,  therefore,  to  give 


CII.  I.,  §  1.]  .  CONVICTION.  45 

some    hints  for  the  conduct  of  this  preliminary  process 

the_  choice  of  propositions.  Not,  of  course,  that  I  am  sup- 
posing the  author  to  be  in  doubt  what  opinion  he  shall 
adopt;  the  process  of  investigation*  (which  does  not  fall 
within  the  province  of  Rhetoric)  being  supposed  to  be  con- 
cluded ;  but  still  there  will  often  be  room  for  deliberation  as 
to  the  form  in  which  an  opinion  shall  be  stated,  and,  when 
several  propositions  are  to  be  maintained,  in  what  order  they 
shall  be  placed. 

On  this  head,  therefore,  I  shall  proceed  to  propose  some 
rules  ]  after  having  premised  (in  order  to  antici- 
pate some  objections  or  doubts  which  might  arise)      andSuV 
one  remark  relative  to  the  object  to  be  effected.      *^^'^- 
This  is,  of  course,  what  may  be  called,  in  the  widest  sense  of 
the  word,  conviction;  but  under  that  term  are  comprehended, 
/rs^,  what  is  strictly  called  mstruction ;  an^,  second hj,  con- 
viction in  the  narrower  sense;  i.  e.,  the  conviction  of  those 
who  are  either  of  a  contrary  ojiinion  to  the  one  maintained, 
or  who  are  in  doubt  whether  to  admit  or  deny  it.    By  instruc- 
tion, on  the  other  hand,  is  commonly  meant  the  conviction  of 
those  who  have  neither  formed  an  opinion  on  the  subject,  nor 
are  deliberating  whether  to  adopt  or  reject  the  proposition  in 
question,  but  are  merely  desirous  of  ascertaining  what  is  the 
truth  in  respect  of  the  case   before  them.     The  former  are 
supposed  to  have  before  their  minds  the  terms  of  the  propo- 
sition maintained,  and   are   called  upon  to  consider  lohether 
that  particular  jiroposition  be   true  or  false:  the  latter  are 
not  supposed  to  know  the  terms  of  the  conclusion,  but  to  be 
inquiring  what  proposition  is  to  be  received  as  true.     The 
former  may  be  described,  in  logical  languao-e,  as  doubting  re- 
specting the  cojnda;  the  latter,  res])cci[n£the  predicate"^    It 
IS  evident  that  the  speaker  or  writer  is,"  relatively  to  these 
last,  (though  not  to  himself,)  conducting  a  process  of  inves- 
tigation; as  is  plain  from  what  has  bcen'said  of  that  subject 
in  the  treatise  on  Logic. 

^  The  distinction  between  these  two  objects  gives  rise  in 
some  points  to  corresponding  differences  iii  the  mode  of  pro- 
cedure, which  will  be  noticed  hereafter ;  these  differences, 
however,  are  not  sufficient  to  require  that  Rhetoric  should  on 

*  Logic,  Book  IV.,  chap,  iii.,  ^  2. 


? 


46  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

that  account  be  divided  into  two  distinct  branches ;  since, 
generally  speaking,  though  not  universally,  the  same  rules 
will  be  serviceable  for  attaining  each  of  these  objects. 

§2. 

The  first  step  is,  as  I  have  observed,  to  lay  down  (in  the 
author's  mind)  the  proposition  or  propositions  to  be  main- 
tained, clearly,  and  in  a  suitable  form. 

He  who  strictly  observes  this  rule,  and  who  is  thus  brought 
to  view  steadily  the  point  he  is  aiming  at,  will  be  kept  clear, 
in  a  great  degree,  of  some  common  faults  of  young  writers ; 
viz.,  entering  on  to*o  wide  a  field  of  discussion,  and  intro- 
ducing many  propositions  not  sufiiciently  connected  j  an  error 
which  destroys  the  unity  of  the  composition. 
dwsTn/t  hn-  This  last  error  those  are  apt  to  fall  into  who  place 
ply  unity  of  before  themselves  a  term  instead  of  a  propoi^i- 
compoti  1  .  ^^^^^^  .  ^Yi^  imagine  that  because  they  are  treating 
of  one  thing,  they  are  discussing  one  question.  In  an  ethical 
work,  for  instance,  one  may  be  treating  of  virtue,  while  dis- 
cussing all  or  any  of  these  questions :  "  Wherein  virtue  con- 
sists V  "  Whence  our  notions  of  it  arise  V^  '•'•  Whence  it  de- 
rives its  obligations?"  etc.;  but  if  these  questions  were  con- 
fusedly blended  together,  or  if  all  of  them  were  treated  of, 
within  a  short  compass,  the  most  just  remarks  and  forcible 
arguments  would  lose  their  interest  and  their  utility,  in  so 
perplexed  a  composition. 

Nearly  akin  to  this  fault  is  the  other  just  mentioned,  that 
of  entering  on  too  wide  a  field  for  the  length  of  the  work ; 
by  which  means  the  writer  is  confined  to  barren  and  uninter- 
esting generalities ;  as,  e.  g.,  general  exhortations  to  virtue 
(conveyed,  of  course,  in  very  general  terms)  in  the  space  of 
a  discourse  only  of  sufficient  length  to  give  a  characteristic 
description  of  some  one  branch  of  duty,  or  of 
of  ?TiatteTfur-  some  One  particular  motive  to  the  practice  of  it. 
wished byare-  XJnpracticcd  composers  are  apt  to  fancy  that  they 
shall  have  the  greater  abundance  of  matter,  the 
wider  extent  of  subject  they  comprehend;  but  experience 
shows  that  the  reverse  is  the  fact :  the  more  general  and  ex- 
tensive view  will  often  suggest  nothing  to  the  mind  but  vague 
and  trite  remarks  ;  when,  upon  narrowing  the  field  of  discus- 


CH.  I.,  §  3.]  CONVICTION.  47 

sion,  many  interesting  questions  of  detail  present  themselves. 
Now  a  writer  who  is  accustomed  to  state  to  himself  precisely, 
in  the  first  instance,  the  conclusions  to  which  he  is  tendini}:, 
will  be  the  less  likely  to  content  himself  with  such  as  consist 
of  very  general  statements ;  and  will  often  be  led,  even  where 
an  extensive  view  is  at  first  proposed,  to  distribute  it  into 
several  branches,  and,  waiving  the  discussion  of  the  rest,  to 
limit  himself  to  the  full  development  of  one  or  two;  and 
thus  applying,  as  it  were,  a  microscope  to  a  small  space,  will 
present  to  the  view  much  that  a  wider  survey  would  not  have 
exhibited, 

§3. 

It  may  be  useful  for  one  who  is  about  thus  to  lay  down  his 
propositions,  to  ask  himself  three  questions  :  first, 
What  is  the  fact?  secondly,  Why*  (i,  e.,  from    p"2pStimis!" 
what  cause)  is  it  so  ?  or,  in  other  words,  How  is  "*> 

it  accounted  for  ?  and  thirdly,  What  consequence  results  from 
it? 

The  last  two  of  these  questions,  though  they  w^ill  not  in 
every  case  suggest  such  answers  as  are  strictly  to  be  called 
the  cause  and  the  consequence  of  the  principal  truth  to  be 
maintained,  may,  at  least,  often  furnish  such  propositions  as 
bear  a  somewhat  similar  relation  to  it. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  that  in  recommending  the  writer  to 
begin  by  laying  down  in  his  own  mind  the  propositions  to  be 
maintained,  it  is  not  meant  to  be  implied  that  they  are  always 
to  be  stated  first :  that  will  depend  upon  the  nature  of  the 
case ;  and  rules  will  hereafter  be  given  on  that  point. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  also,  that  by  the  word  ''proposition" 
or  "assertion,"  throughout  this  treatise,  is  to  be'  understood  - 
some  conclusion  to  be  established  /o?'  itself;-  not  with  a  view  '^* 
to  an  ulterior  conclusion  :  those  propositions  which  are  in- 
tended to  serve  as  premises  being  called,  in  allowable  con- 
formity with  popular  usage,  arguments;  it  being  customary 
to  argue  in  the  enthymematic  form,  and  to  call,  for  brevity's 
sake,  the  expressed  premises  of  an  enthymeme,  the  argument 
by  which  the  conclusion  of  it  is  proved. f 

"■  See  Logic.     Appendix,  Article  "Why." 
t  Logic,  Book  L,  ^  2. 


48  EliEMENTS    OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 


1 


CHAPTER   II.  ^ 


OF   ARGUMENTS. 


§1- 

The  finding  of  suitable  arguments  to  prove  a  given 
point,  and  the  skilful  arranqement  of  them,  may 

Proper  pro-       f  •  i         i  ,i       •  -. •    .  j  ^         J 

vince  of  Rhe-  be  considered  as  the  immediate  and  proper  pro- 
^o"^-  vince  of  Khetoric,  and  of  that  alone.* 

The  business  of  Logic  is,  as  Cicero  complains,  to  judge  of 
arguments,  not  to  invent  them  :   ("In  inveniendis  argumentis 
muta  nimium  est;  in  judicandis,  nimium  loquax.")!     The 
knowledge,  again,  ^n  each  case,  of  the  subject  in  hand  is 
essential ;  but  it  is  evidently  borrowed  from  the  science  or 
system  conversant  about  that  subject-matter,  whether  Politics, 
Theology,  Law,  Ethics,  or  any  other.     The  art  of  addressing 
the  feelings,  again,  does  not  belong  exclusively  to  Rhetoric ;  ^-^^^ 
since  Poetry  has  at  least  as  much  to  do  with  that  branch.  ■^'*' | 
Nor  are  the  considerations  relative  to  style  and  elocution  con-'^O^ 
fined  to  argumentative  and  persuasive*  compositions.    The  art 
of  inventing  and  arranging  arguments  is,  as  has  been  said, 
the  only  province  that  Rhetoric  can  claim  entirely  and  ex- 
clusively. 

Arguments  are  divided  according  to  several  different  prin- 

ciples :  i.  e.,  logically  speaking,  there  are  several 

sionsofargu-   divisions  of  them.      And  these   cross -divisions 

merits.  have  proved  a  source  of  endless  perplexity  to  the 

*  Aristotle's  division  of  persuasives  into  "artificial"  and  "inarti- 
ficial," (tvTexvoL  and  urexvoc,)  including  under  the  latter  head,  "wit- 
nesses, laws,  contracts,  etc.,"  is  strangely  unphilosophical.  The  one 
class,  he  says,  the  orator  is  to  make  use  of;  the  other,  to  devise. 
But  it  is  evident  that,  in  all  cases  alike,  the  data  we  argue /rom  must 
be  something  already  existing,  and  which  we  are  not  to  make,  but  to 
use ;  and  that  the  arguments  derived  from  these  data  are  the  work  of 
art.  Whether  these  data  are  general  maxims  or  particular  testimony 
— laws  of  nature,  or  laws  of  the  land — makes,  in  this  respect,  no 
difference. 

f  Cic.  de  Orat. 


CH.  II.,  §  1.]  CONVICTION.  49 

logical  and  rhetorical  student,  because  there  is  perhaps  no 
writer  on  either  subject  that  has  been  aware  of  their  charac- 
ter. Hardly  any  thing  perhaps  has  contributed  so  much  to 
lessen  the  interest  and  the  utility  of  systems  of  Khctoric  as 
the  indistinctness  hence  resulting.  When  in  any  subject  the 
members  of  a  division  are  not  opposed,  [contradistinguished,] 
but  are  in  fact  members  of  different  divisions,  crossing  each 
other,  it  is  manifestly  impossible  to  obtain  any  clear  notion 
of  the  species  treated  of;  nor  will  any  labor  or  ingenuity  be- 
stowed on  the  subject  be  of  the  least  avail,  till  the  original 
pom'ce  of  perplexity  is  removed;  till,  in  short,  the  cross- 
division  is  detected  and  explained. 

Arguments  then  may  be  divided, 

First,  into  irregular  and  regular,  i.  e.,  syllogisms;  these 
last  into  categorical  and  hypothetical ;  and  the  categorical, 
into  syllogisms  in  the  first  figure,  and  in  the  other  figures, 
etc.,  etc. 

Secondly,  They  are  frequently  divided  into  "probable,'' 
[or  "moral,"]  and  "demonstrative,"  [or  "necessary."] 

Thirdly,  into  the  "direct"  and  the  "indirect;"  [or  reduc- 
tio  ad  ahsurdwni^ — the  deictic,  and  the  elenctic,  of  Aristotle. 

Fourthly,  into  arguments  from  "example,"  from  "testi- 
mony," from  "cause  to  effect,"  from  "analogy,"  etc.,  etc. 

It  will  be  perceived,  on  attentive  examination,  that  several 
of  the  different  species  just  mentioned  will  occasionally  con- 
tain each  other :  e.  g.,  a  probable  argument  may  be  at  the 
same  time  a  categorical  argument,  a  direct  argument,  and  an 
argument  from  testimony,  etc. ;  tliis  being  the  consequence 
of  arguments  having  been  divided  on  several  different  2:>rin- 
ciples;  a  circumstance  so  obvious  the  moment  it  is  distinctly 
stated,  that  I  apprehend  such  of  my  readers  as  have  not  been 
conversant  in  these  studies  will  hardly  be  disposed  to-  believe 
that  it  could  have  been  (as  is  the  fact)  generally  overlooked, 
and  that  eminent  writers  should  in  consequence  have  been 
involved  in  inextricable  confusion.  I  need  only  remind  them, 
however,  of  the  anecdote  of  Columbus  breaking  the  egg. 
That  which  is  perfectly  obvious  to  any  man  of  common  sense, 
as  soon  as  it  is  mentioned,  may  nevertheless  fail  to  occur, 
even  to  men  of  considerable  ingenuity. 

It  will  also  be  readily  perceived,  on  examining  the  princi- 
ples of  these  several  divisions,  that  the  last  of  them  alone 


50  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

Division  of  ^^  properly  and  strictly  a  division  of  arguments 
forms  of  argu-  as  sucli.  The  first  is  evidently  a  division  of  the 
forms  of  stating  them;  for  every  one  would 
allow  that  the  sa^ne  argument  may  be  either  stated  as  an  en- 
thymeme,  or  brought  into  the  strict  syllogistic  form,  and 
that  either  categorically  or  hypothetically,  etc.  :  e.  g.,  ^'What- 
everhas  a  beo'innino;  has  a  cause  :  the  earth  had  a  bec;innin2:; 
therefore  it  had  a  cause ;  or,  //'  the  earth  had  a  beginning, 
it  had  a  cause :  it  had  a  beginning,^^  etc.,  every  one  would 
call  the  sajne  argument,  differently  stated.  This,  therefore, 
evidently  is  not  a  division  of  arguments  as  such. 

The  second  is  plainly  a  division  of  arguments  according  to 
^  , .    ^       ^     their  subject-matter,  whether  necessary  or  proba- 

Subject-mat-     ,,         ^"^  -'  .  m     -i  • 

ter  of  argu-  Die,  [Certain  or  uncertain. J  In  Mathematics, 
ments.  e.  g.,  evcry  proposition  that  Can  be  Stated  is  either 

an  immutable  truth,  or  an  absurdity  and  self-contradiction ; 
while  in  human  affairs  the  proj)ositions  which  we  assume  are 
only  true  for  the  most  part,  and  as  general  rules;  and  in 
Physics,  though  they  must  be  true  as  long  as  the  laws  of 
nature  remain  undisturbed,  the  contradiction  of  them  does 
not  imply  an  absurdity ;  and  the  conclusions,  of  course,  in 
each  case,  have  the  same  degree  and  kind  of  certainty  with 
the  premises.  This  therefore  is  properly  a  division,  not  of 
arguments  as  such,  but  of  the  propositions  of  which  they 
consist. 

The  third  is  a  division  of  arguments  according  to  the  pur- 
pose for  which  they  are  employed ;  according  to 
arg\uTreiits?  ^^^^  intention  of  the  reasoner;  whether  that  be 
to  establish  ^'directly"  [or  "  ostensively"]  the 
conclusion  drawn,  or  \_"  indirectly"]  by  means  of  an  absurd 
conclusion  to  disprove  one  of  the  premises;  (i.  e.,  to  prove 
its  contradictory;)  since  the  alternative  proposed  in  ever?/ 
valid  argument  is,  either  to  admit  the  conclusion,  or  to  deny 
one  of  the  premises.  Now  it  may  so  happen  that  in  some 
cases  one  person  will  choose  the  former,  and  another  the  lat- 
ter, of  these  alternatives.  It  is  probable,  e.  g.,  that  many 
have  been  induced  to  admit  the  doctrine  of  transubstantia- 
tion,  from  its  clear  connection  with  the  infallibility  of  the 
Romish  Church ;  and  many  others,  by  the  very  same  argu- 
ment, have  surrendered  their  belief  in  that  infallibility. 
Again,  Berkeley  and  Keid  seem  to  have  alike  admitted  that 


en.  II.,  §  1.]  CONVICTION.  51 

the  non-existence  of  matter  was  a  necessary  consequence  of 
Locke's  Theory  of  Ideas;  but  the  former  was  hence  led, 
hond  fidcj  to  admit  and  advocate  that  non-existence;  while 
the  latter  was  led  by  the  very  same  argument  to  reject  the 
ideal  tlieory.  Thus,  we  see  it  possible  for  the  very  same 
argument  to  be  direct  to  one  person,  and  indirect  to  another; 
leading  them  to  different  results,  according  as  they  judge  the 
original  conclusion,  or  the  contradictory  of  a  premiss,  to  be 
the  more  probable.  This,  therefore,  is  not  properly  a  di- 
vision of  the  purposes  for  which  they  are  on  each  occasion 
employed. 

The  fourth,  which  alone  is  properly  a  division  of  argu- 
ments as  such,  and  accordingly  will  be  princi- 
pally treated  of,  is  a  division  according  to  the  gnments'^as^" 
"relation  of  the  subject-matter  of  the  premises  ^^^^- 
to  that  of  the  conclusion."  I  say,  <' of  the  subject-matter,'' 
because  the  logical  connection  between  the  premises  and  con- 
clusion is  independent  of  the  meaning  of  the  terms  em- 
ployed, and  may  be  exhibited  with  letters  of  the  alphabet 
substituted  for  the  terms ;  but  the  relation  I  am  now  speak- 
ing of  between  the  premises  and  conclusion,  (and  the  vari- 
eties of  which  form  the  several  species  of  arguments,)  is  in 
respect  of  their  suhject-matter :  as,  e.  g.,  an  "argument  from 
cause  to  effect"  is  so  called  and  considered  in  reference  to 
the  relation  existing  between  the  premiss,  which  is  the  cause, 
and  the  conclusion,  which  is  the  effect;  and  an  "argument 
from  example,"  in  like  mann(«!r,  from  the  relation  between  a 
known  and  an  unknoion  instance,  both  belonging  to  the  same 
class.  And  it  is  plain  that  the  present  division,  though  it 
has  a  reference  to  the  subject-matter  of  the  premises,  is  yet 
not  a  division  of  jjvopositions  considered  by  themselves,  (as 
in  the  case  with  the  division  into  "probable"  and  "demon- 
strative,") but  of  arguments  considered  as  such;  for  when 
we  say,  e.  g.,  that  the  premiss  is  a  cause,  and  the  conclusion 
the  effect,  these  expressions  are  evidently  relative,  and  have 
no  meaning,  except  in  reference  to  each  other ;  and  so  also 
when  we  say  that  the  premiss  and  the  conclusion  are  two 
]mrallel  cases,  that  very  expression  denotes  their  relation  to 
each  other. 

In  the  annexed  Table  I  have  sketched  an  outline  of  the 
several  divisions  of  arguments  here  treated  of 


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OH.  II.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  53 

§2. 

In  distributing,  then,  the  several  kinds  of  arguments,  ac- 
cording to  this  division,  it  will.,  be  found  convenient  to  lay 
down  first  two  great  classes,  under  one  or  other 
of  which  all  can  be  brought :  viz.,  first,  such  ofariiuments. 
arguments  as  might  have  been  employed — not  as 
arguments,  but — to  account  for  the  fact  or  principle  main- 
tained, supposing  its  truth  granted  :  secondly,  such  as  could 
not  be  so  employed.  The  former  class  (to  which  in  this  trea- 
tise the  name  ^'^  cL  prior V^  argument  will  be  confined)  is  man- 
ifestly argument  from  cause  to  effect ;  since  to  account  for 
any  thing,  signifies,  to  assign  the  cause  of  it.  The  other 
class,  of  course,  comprehends  all  other  arguments ;  of  which 
there  are  several  kinds,  which  will  be  mentioned  hereafter. 

The  two  sorts  of  proof  which  have  been  just  spoken  of, 
Aristotle  seems  to  have  intended  to  designate  by  the  titles  of 
oTi  for  the  latter,  and  dion  for  the  former;  but  he  has  not 
been  so  clear  as  could  be  wished  in  observing  the  distinction 
between  them.  The  only  decisive  test  by  which  to  distin- 
guish the  arguments  which  belong  to  the  one  and  to  the  other 
of  these  classes  is,  to  ask  the  question,  "  Supposing  the  pro- 
position in  question  to  be  admitted,  would  this  statement  here 
used  as  an  argument  serve  to  account  for  and  explain  the 
truth,  or  not  V  It  will  then  be  readily  referred  to  the  for- 
mer or  to  the  latter  class,  according  as  the  answer  is  in  the 
affirmative  or  the  negative  ;  as,  e.  g.,  if  a  murder  were  im- 
puted to  any  one  on  the  grounds  of  his  ^^  having  a  hatred  to 
the  deceased,  and  an  interest  in  his  death,''  the  argument 
would  belong  to  the  former  class ;  because,  supposing  his 
guilt  to  be  admitted,  and  an  inquiry  to  be  made  how  he  can 
commit  the  murder,  the  circumstances  just  mentioned  would 
serve  to  account  for  it;  but  not  so  with  respect  to  such  an 
argument  as  his  "  having  blood  on  his  clothes;"  which  would 
therefore  be  referred  to  the  other  class. 

And  here  let  it  be  observed,  once  for  all,  that  when  I  speak 
of  arguing  from  cause  to  eff'ect,  it  is  not  intended  to  main- 
tain the  real  and  proper  efficacy  of  what  are  called  physical 
causes  to  produce  their  respective  eff'ects,  nor  to  enter  into 
any  discussion  of  the  controversies  which  have  been  raised 
on  that  point,  which  would  be  foreign  from  the  present  pur- 


54  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

pose.  The  word  "  cause/'  therefore,  is  to  be  understood  as 
employed  in  the  popular  sense ;  as  well  as  the  phrase  of  "  ac- 
counting for"  any  fact. 

As  far,  then,  as  any  cause,  popularly  speaking,  has  a  tend- 
ency to  produce  a  certain  effect,  so  far  its  existence  is  an  ar- 
Argument  gument  for  that  of  the  effect.  If  the  cause  be 
from  cause  to  fully  sufficient,  and  no  impediments  intervene,  the 
^  ^^  '  effect   in    question    follows    certainly ;    and   the 

nearer  we  approach  to  this,  the  stronger  the  argument. 

This  is  the  kind  of  argument  which  produces  (when  short 
of  absolute  certainty)  that  species  of  the  probable  which  is 
usually  called  the  ^^ plausible."  On  this  subject, 
Dr.  Campbell  has  some  valuable  remarks  in  his 
^^ Philosophy  of  Rhetoric,"  (Book  I.,  §  5,  ch.  vii.,)  though  he 
had  been  led  into  a  good  deal  of  perplexity,  partly  by  not 
having  logically  analyzed  the  two  species  of  probabilities  he 
is  treating  of,  and  partly  by  departing,  unnecessarily,  from 
the  ordinary  use  of  terms,  in  treating  of  the  plausible  as 
something  distinct  from  the  probable,  instead  of  regarding  it 
as  a  species  of  probability.* 

This  is  the  chief  kind  of  probability  which  poets  or  other 
writers  of  fiction  aim  at;  and  in  such  works  it  is  often  de- 
signated by  the  term  ^<  natural. "f    Writers  of  this  class,  as 

■^  I  do  not  mean,  however,  that  every  thing  to  which  the  term 
"plausible"  would  apply,  would  be  in  strict  propriety  called  "prob- 
able ;"  as,  e.  g.,  if  we  had  fully  ascertained  some  story  that  had  been 
told  us  to  be  an  imposition,  we  might  still  say,  it  was  a.  "plausible" 
tale;  though,  subsequent  to  the  detection,  the  word  "probable" 
would  not  be  so  properly  applied.  But  certainly  common  usage 
warrants  the  use  of  "probable"  in  many  cases,  on  the  ground  of 
this  plausibility  alone;  viz.,  the  adequacy  of  some  cause  known,  or 
likely  to  exist,  to  produce  the  effect  in  question.  I  could  have  wished 
that  there  had  been  some  other  word  to  designate  what  I  have  called, 
after  Dr.  Campbell's  example,  the  "plausible,"  because  it  sometimes 
suggests  the  idea  of  "untrue."  But  ^^ likely,''^  which,  according  to 
etymology,'  ought  to  be  the  suitable  term,  is  often  used  to  denote  the 
"probable,"  generally. 

When,  however,  we  have  clearly  defined  the  technical  sense  in 
which  we  propose  to  employ  a  certain  term,  it  may  fairly  be  so  taken, 
even  though  not  invariably  bearing  that  sense  in  common  usage. 

f  It  is  also  important  for  them,  though  not  so  essential,  to  keep 
clear  of  the  improbable  air  produced  by  the  introduction  of  events, 
which,  though  not  unnatural,  have  a  great  preponderance  of  chances 


CH.  II.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  55 

they  aim  not  at  producing  belief,  are  allowed  to  take  their 
''causes"  for  granted,  i.  e'.,  to  assume  any  hypothesis  they 
please,  provided  they  make  the  effects  follow  naturally ;  re- 
presenting, that  is,  the  personages  of  the  fiction  as  acting, 
and  the  events  as  resulting,  in  the  same  manner  as  might 
have  been  expected,  supposing  the  assumed  circumstances  to 
have  been  real.*  And  hence  the  great  father  of  criticism 
establishes  his  paradoxical  maxim,  that  impossibilities  which 
appear  probable,  are  to  be  preferred  to  possibilities  which  ap- 
pear improbable.  For,  as  he  justly  observes,  the  impossibility 
of  the  hypothesis,  as,  e.  g.,  in  Homer,  the  familiar  intercourse 
of  gods  with  mortals,  is  no  bar  to  the  kind  of  probability 
(i.  e.,  verisimilitude)  required,  if  those  mortals  are  represented 
as  acting  in  the  manner  men  naturally  would  have  done  under 
those  circumstances. 

The  probability,  then,  which  the  writers  of  fiction  aim  at, 
has,  for  the  reason  just  mentioned,  no  tendency  to  produce  a 
particular,  but  only  a  general,  belief;  i.  e.,  not  that  these 
particular  events  actually  took  place,  but  that  such  are  likely, 
generally,  to  take  place  under  such  circumstances  :j"  this  kind 
of  belief  (unconsciously  entertained)  being  necessary,  and  all 
that  is  necessary,  to  produce  that  sympathetic  feeling  which 
is  the  writer's  object.  In  argumentative  compositions,  how- 
ever, as  the  object  of  course  is  to  produce  conviction  as  to 
the  particular  point  in  question,  the  causes  from  which  our 
arguments  are  drawn  must  be  such  as  are  either  admitted,  or 
may  be  proved,  to  be  actually  existing,  or  likely  to  exist. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  in  reference  to  this  kind  of  prob- 
ability— the '' plausible"  or  "  natural" — that  men     ^, 
are  apt  to  judge  amiss  of  situations,  persons,  and     rai  mistaken 
circumstances,  concerning  which  they  have  no  ex-     ^'^^  natural. 
act  knowledge,  by  applying  to  these  the  measure  of  their  own 
feelings  and  experience  :\  the  result  of  which  is,  that  a  cor- 

against  them.  The  distinction  between  these  two  kinds  of  faults  is 
pointed  out  in  a  passage  in  the  Quarterly  Review,  for  which  see  Ap- 
pendix, [B.] 

*  For  some  remarks  on  this  point,  see  the  preface  to  a  late  (puri- 
fied) edition  of  the  ''Tales  of  the  Genii.'' 

f  On  which  ground  Aristotle  contends  that  the  end  of  fiction  is 
more  philosophical  than  that  of  history,  since  it  aims  at  general,  in- 
stead of  particular,  truth. 

X  See  Part  11. ,  ch.  ii.,  g  2. 


\ 

56  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

rect  account  of  these  will  often  appear  to  them  unnatural, 
and  an  erroneous  one  natural.  E.  g. :  A  person  born  with 
the  usual  endowments  of  the  senses,  is  apt  to  attribute  to  the 
blind-born,  and  the  deaf-mutes,  such  habits  of  thought  and 
such  a  state  of  mind  as  his  own  would  bo,  if  he  were  to  he- 
come  deaf  or  blind,  or  to  be  left  in  the  dark  ;  which  would  be 
very  wide  of  the  truth.  That  a  man  born  blind  would  not,  on 
obtaining  sight,  know  apart,  on  seeing  them,  a  ball  and  a 
cube,  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  handle,  nor  distin- 
guish the  dog  from  the  cat,  would  appear  to  most  persons  un- 
acquainted with  the  result  of  experiments,  much  less  '^na- 
tural" than  the  reverse.*  So  it  is  also  with  those  brought 
up  free,  in  reference  to  the  feelings  and  habits  of  thought  of 
born-slaves  jf  with  civilized  men,  in  reference  to  savages  ;J 
and  of  men  living  in  society,  in  reference  to  one  who  passes 
whole  years  in  total  solitude.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  ad- 
mirable fiction  of  Robinson  Crusoe  would  have  been  not  only 
much  less  amusing,  but  to  most  readers  less  apparently  nat- 
ural, if  Friday  and  the  other  savages  had  been  represented 
with  the  indocility  and  other  qualities  which  really  belong  to 
such  beings  as  the  Brazilian  cannibals;  and  if  the  hero  him- 
self had  been  represented  with  that  half-brutish  apathetic 
despondency,  and  carelessness  about  all  comforts  demanding 
steady  exertion,  which  are  the  really  natural  results  of  a  life 
of  utter -solitude;  and  if  he  had  been  described  as  almost 
losing  the  use  of  his  own  language,  instead  of  remembering 
the  Spanish. 

Again,  I  remember  mentioning  to  a  very  intelligent  man 

^  See  an  account,  in  a  note  to  the  First  Series  of  Essays,  of  a  blind 
youth  couched  by  Mr.  Cheselden. 

•j-  This  has,  in  various  ways,  proved  an  obstacle  to  the  abolition  of 
slavery.  It  has  also  caused  great  difficulty  to  some  readers  of  the 
Book  of  Exothis. 

J  In  the  Fiftli  Lecture  on  Political  Economy  (an  extract  from  which 
is  subjoined  in  the  Appendix,  Note  C,)  I  have  noticed  the  descrip- 
tions usually  given  of  the  origin  of  civilization,  which  are  generally 
received  as  perfectly  natural,  though  they  are,  as  I  have  shown,  such 
as  never  were  or  can  be  realized.  I  mean  in  the  English,  not  in  the 
American  sense  of  the  word  "realize."  To  realize  a  scheme,  etc., 
means,  with  us,  to  make  it  "real,"  to  "carry  into  effect :"  with  the 
Americans  it  means  to  "form  a  strong  and  vivid  conception  of  it." 
I  acknowledge  the  want,  in  our  language,  of  a  single  word  adequately 
expressing  this ;  but  circumlocution  is  better  than  ambiguity. 


CII.  II.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  57 

the  description  given  by  the  earliest  missionaries  to  New 
Zealand  of  their  introduction  of  the  culture  of  wheat;  which 
he  derided  as  an  absurd  fabrication,  but  which  appeared  to 
me  what  might  have  been  reasonably  conjectured.  The  sav- 
ages were  familiar  with  bread,  in  the  form  of  ship-biscuit ; 
and  accordingly,  roots  being  alone  cultivated  by  them,  and 
furnishing  their  chief  food,  they  expected  to  find  at  the  roots 
of  the  wheat,  tubers  which  could  be  made  into  biscuits.  They 
accordingly  dug  up  the  wheat ;  and  were  mortified  at  the 
failure  of  their  hopes.  The  idea  of  collectino;  small  seeds, 
pulverizing  these,  and  making  the  powder  into  a  paste  which 
was  to  be  hardened  by  fire,  was  quite  foreign  from  all  their 
experience.  Yet  here,  an  unnatural  representation  would,  to 
many,  have  appeared  the  more  natural. 

Much  pains,  therefore,  must  in  many  cases  be  taken  in 
giving  such  explanations  as  may  put  men  on  their  guard 
against  this  kind  of  mistake,  and  enable  them  to  see  the  im- 
probability, and  sometimes  utter  impossibility,  of  what  at  the 
first  glanc€  they  will  be  apt  to  regard  as  perfectly  natural ; 
and  to  satisfy  them  that  something  which  they  were  disposed 
to  regard  as  extravagantly  unnatural,  is  just  what  might  have 
been  reasonably  anticipated. 

One  way  in  which  the  unnatural  is  often  made  to  appear, 
for  a  time,  natural,  is  by  giving  a  lively  and  striking  descrip- 
tion which  is  correct  in  its  several  ^)ar^s,  and  unnatural  only 
when  these  are  combined  into  a  tohole :  like  a  painter  who 
should  give  an  exact  picture  of  an  English  country-house,  of 
a  grove  of  palm-trees,  an  elephant,  and  an  iceberg,  all  in  the 
same  landscape.  Thus,  a  vivid  representation  of  a  den  of 
infamy  and  degradation,  and  of  an  ingenuous  and  well-dis- 
posed youth,  may  each  be,  in  itself,  so  natural,  as  to  draw  off, 
for  a  time,  the  attention  from  the  absurdity  of  making  the 
one  arise  out  of  the  other. 

On  the  appropriate  use  of  the  kind  of  argument  now  bo- 
fore  us,  (which  is  probably  the  elfcog  of  Aristotle,  though  un- 
fortunately he  has  not  furnished  any  example  of  it,)  some 
rules  will  be  laid  down  hereafter ;  my  object  at  present  having 
been  merely  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  it.  And 
here  it  may  be  worth  while  to  remark,  that  Empiovment 
though  I  have  applied  to  this  mode  of  reasoning  dpriori.  "  ' 
the  title  of  "  d  j^t'tori,"  it  is  not  meant  to  bo 


58  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

maintained  that  all  such  arguments  as  have  been  by  other 
Tvriters  so  designated  correspond  precisely  with  what  has 
been  just  described.*  The  phrase,  "d  priori"  argument,  is 
not  indeed  employed  by  all  in  the  same  sense ;  it  would, 
however,  generally  be  understood  to  extend  to  any  argument 
drawn  from  an  antecedent  or  forerunner^  whether  a  cau&e  or 
not :  e.  g.,  ''The  mercury  sinks,  therefore  it  will  rain/'  Now 
this  arirument  beinii;  drawn  from  a  circumstance  which,  thouo;h 
an  antecedent,  is  in  no  sense  a  cause,  would  fall  not  under 
the  former,  but  the  latter,  of  the  classes  laid  down;  since 
when  rain  comes,  no  one  would  account  for  the  phenomenon 
by  the  falling  of  the  mercury ;  which  they  would  call  a  sign 
of  rain;  and  yet  most,  perhaps,  would  class  this  among  "tl 
p)riori"  arguments.  In  like  manner,  the  expression  '■^  a  poste- 
riori" arguments  would  not  in  its  ordinary  use  coincide  pre- 
cisely, though  it  would  very  nearly,  with  the  second  class  of 
arj^uments. 

The  division,  however,  which  has  here  been  adopted,  ap- 
pears to  be  both  more  philosophical  and  also  more  precisej 
and  consequently  more  practically  useful,  than  any  other ; 
since  there  is  so  easy  and  decisive  a  test  by  which  an  argu- 
ment may  be  at  once  referred  to  the  one  or  to  the  other  of 
the  classes  described. 


*  Some  students,  accordingly,  partly  with  a  view  to  keep  clear  of 
any  ambiguity  that  might  hence  arise,  and  partly  for  the  sate  of 
brevity,  have  found  it  useful  to  adopt,  in  drawing  up  an  outline  or 
analysis  of  any  composition,  certain  arbitrary  symbols,  to  denote, 
respectively,  each  class  of  arguments  and  of  propositions:  viz.,  A, 
for  the  former  of  the  two  classes  of  arguments  just  described,  (to 
denote  "<J  jyriori"  or  "antecedent,"  probability,)  and  B,  for  the 
latter,  which,  as  consisting  of  several  different  kinds,  may  be  de- 
nominated "the  hody  of  evidence."  Again,  they  designate  the  pro- 
position, which  accounts  for  the  principal  and  original  assertion,  by 
a  small  "a,"  or  Greek  a,  to  denote  its  identity  in  substance  with  the 
argument  bearing  the  symbol  "A,"  though  employed  for  a  different 
purpose;  viz.,  not  to  establish  a  fact  that  is  doubtful,  but  to  account 
for  one  that  is  admitted.  The  proposition,  again,  which  results  as  a 
consequence  or  corollary  from  the  principal  one,  they  designate  by 
the  symbol  C.  There  seems  to  be  the  same  convenience  in  tlie  use 
of  these  symbols  as  logicians  have  found  in  the  employment  of  A,  E, 
I,  0,  to  represent  the  four  kinds  of  propositions  according  to  quan- 
tity and  quality. 


CH.  II.,  §  3.]  CONVICTION.  59 

§3. 

The  second,  then,  of  these  classes,  (viz.,  "arguments  drawn 
from  such  topics  as  could  not  be  used  to  account  for  the  fact, 
etc.,  in  question,  supposing  it  granted,")  may  be  subdivided 
into  two  kinds ,  which  will  be  designated  by  the  terms  "  sign" 
and  "example." 

By  "sign"  (so  called  from  the  I^Tjfielov  Of  Aristotle)  is 
meant  what  may  be  described  as  an  "argument 
from  an  effect  to  a  condition" — a  species  of  argu- 
ment of  which  the  analysis  is  as  follows  :  As  far  as  any  cir- 
cumstance is  what  may  be  called  a  condition  of  the  existence 
of  a  certain  efiect  or  phenomenon,  so  far  it  may  be  inferred 
from  the  existence  of  that  effect :  if  it  be  a  condition  ahso- 
lutehj  essential,  the  argument  is,  of  course,  demonstrative  ] 
and  the  probability  is  the  stronger  in  proportion  as  we  ap- 
proach to  that  case.* 

Of  this  kind  is  the  argument  in  the  instance  lately  given : 
A  man  is  suspected  as  the  perpetrator  of  the  supposed  murder, 
from  the  circumstance  of  his  clothes  being  bloody ;  the  mur- 
der being  considered  as  in  a  certain  degree  a  probable  condi- 
tion of  that  appearance  :  i.  e.,  it  is  presumed  that  his  clothes 
would  not  otherwise  have  been  bloody.  Again,  from  the 
appearance  of  ice,  we  infer,  decidedly,  the  existence  of  a 
temperature  not  above  freezing-point ;  that  temperature  being 
an  essential  condition  of  the  crystallization  of  water. 
•  Among  the  circumstances  which  are  conditional  to  any 
effect,  must  evidently  come  the  cause  or  causes ; 
and  if  there  be  only  one  possible  cause,  this  ^!^q  ^^  ^ 
being  absolutely  essential,  may  be  demonstra- 
tively proved  from  the  effect :  if  the  same  effect  might  re- 
sult from  other  causes,  then  the  ai-gument  is,  at  best,  but 
probable.  But  it  is  to  be  observed  that  there  are  also  many 
circumstances  which  have  no  tendency  to  produce  a  certain 
effect,  though  it  cannot  exist  without  them,  and  from  which 
effect,  consequently,  they  may  be  inferred,  as  conditions, 
though  not  causes:  e.  g.,  a  man's  being  "alive  one  day,"  is 

*  To  this  head  we  may  refer  all  mathematical  reasoning.  Every 
property,  e.  g.,  of  a  triangle,  may  be  regarded  as  a  "condition"  of 
the  supposition  that  a  "triangle"  is  what  is  defined.  A  figure  would 
not  Ijc  a  triangle  unless  its  angles  were  equal  to  two  right  angles,  etc. 


*! 


60  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

a  circumstance  necessary,  as  a  condition,  to  his  "dying  the 
next;"  but  has  no  tendency  to  produce  it;  his  having  been 
alive,  therefore,  on  the  former  day,  may  be  proved  from  his 
subsequent  death,  but  not  vice  versd."^ 

It  is  to  be  observed,  tlicrefore,  that  though  it  is  very  common 
for  the  cause  to  be  proved  from  its  eifect,  it  is  never  so  proved, 
so  far  forth  as  [?J]  it  is  a  cause,  but  so  far  forth  as  it  is  a 
condition,  or  necessary  circumstance. 

A  cause,  again,  may  be  employed  to  prove  an  effect,  (this 
being  the  first  class  of  arguments  already  described,)  so  far  as 
it  has  a  tendency  to  produce  the  effect,  even  though  it  be  not 
at  all  necessary  to  itj  (i.  e.,  when  other  causes  may  produce 
the  same  effect;)  and  in  this  case,  though  the  effect  may  be 
inferred  from  the  cause,  the  cause  cannot  be  inferred  from 
the  effect :  e.  g.,  from  a  mortal  wound  j'ou  may  infer  death  ; 
but  not  vice  versa. 

Lastly,  when  a  cause  is  also  a  necessary  or  probable  con- 
dition, i.  e.,  when  it  is  the  only  possible  or  only  likely  cause, 
then  we  may  argue  both  ways  :  e.  g.,  we  may  infer  a  general's 
success  I'rom  his  known  skill,  or  his  skill  from  his  known  suc- 
cess; (in  this,  as  in  all  cases,  assuming  what  is  the  Letter 
known  as  a  proof  of  what  is  less  known,  denied,  or  doubted;) 
these  two  arguments  belonging,  respectively,  to  the  two  classes 
originally  laid  down. 

And  it  is  to  be  observed  that,  in  such  arguments  from  sign 
T  .  ,  ,  as  this  last,  the  conclusion  which  follows,  logicalh/. 
piiysicai  se-  from  the  premiss,  being  the  cause  from  which  the 
quence.  prcmiss  folloics,  physically,   (i.   e.,  as  a  natural 

*  It  is,  however,  very  common,  in  the  carelessness  of  ordinary 
language,  to  mention,  as  the  causes  of  phenomena,  circumstances 
"whicli  every  one  would  allow,  on  consideration,  to  be  not  causes,  but 
only  conditions,  of  the  eifccts  in  question:  e.  g.,  it  would  be  said  of 
a  tender  plant,  that  it  was  destroyed  in  consequence  of  not  being 
covered  Avith  a  mat;  though  every  one  would  mean  to  imply  that  the 
frost  destroyed  it ;  this  being  a  cause  too  well  known  to  need  being 
mentioned;  and  that  which  is  spoken  of  as  the  cause,  viz.,  the  ab- 
sence of  a  covering,  being  only  the  condition,  without  which  the  real 
cause  could  not  have  operated. 

How  common  it  is  to  confound  a  sign  with  a  cause  is  appai'ent  in 
the  resentment  men  are  prone  to  feel  against  the  prophets  of  evil ; 
as  Ahab  "hated"  the  prophet  Micaiah,  and  gave  as  a  reason,  "He 
doth  not  prophesy  good  concerning  me,  but  evil." 


Cri.  II.,  §  8.]  CONVICTION.  61 

effect,)  there  are  in  this  case  two  different  kinds  of  sequence 
opposed  to  each  other :  e.  g.,  "  With  many  of  them 
G  od  was  not  well  pleased ;  for  they  were  overthrown  in  the 
wilderness."  In  arguments  of  the  tirst  class,  on  the  contrary, 
these  two  kinds  of  sequence  are  combined ;  i.  e.,  the  conclusion 
which  follows  logically  from  the  premiss,  is  also  the  effect  fol- 
lowing physically  from  it  as  a  cause  :  a  general's  skill,  e.  g., 
being  both  the  cause  and  the  proof  of  his  being  likely  to  suc- 
ceed. , 

It  is  most  important  to  keep  in  mind  the  distinction  between 
these  two  kinds  of  sequence,  which  are,  in  argu- 
ment,  sometimes   combined,  and   sometimes  op-  ofclistingufsh- 
poscd.     There  is  no  more  fruitful  source  of  con-  j^is  t',*'^  *^^ 
fusion   of  thought  than  that  ambiguity  of  the  quence. 
language  employed  on  these  subjects,  which  tends 
to  confound  together  these  two  things,  so  entirely  distinct  in 
their  nature.     There  is  hardly  any  argumentative  writer  on 
Bubjocts  involving  a  discussion  of  the  causes  or  effects  of  any 
thing,  who  has  clearly  j)erceived  and  steadily  kept  in  view  the 
distinction  I  have  been  speaking  of,  or  who  has  escaped  the 
errors  and  perplexities  thence  resulting.     The  wide  extent 
accordingly,  and  the  importance,  of  the  mistakes  and  difficul- 
ties arising  out  of  the  ambiguity  complained  of,  are  incalcu- 
lable.    Of  all  the  "  Idola  Fori,"*  none  is  perhaps  more  im- 
portant in  its  results.     To  dilate  upon  this  point  as  fully  as 
might  be  done  with  advantage,  would  exceed  my  present 
limits ;  but  it  will  not  be  irrelevant  to  offer  some  remarks  on 
the  origin  of  the  aml)iguity  complained  of,  and  on  the  cautions 
to  be  used  in  guarding  against  being  misled  by  it. 

The  premiss  by  which  any  thing  is  proved,  is  not  necessarily 
the  cause  of  the  fact's  being  such  as  it  is ;  but  it 
is  the  cause  of  our  knowing,  or  being , convinced,       quince, 
that  it  is  so  :  e.  g.,  the  wetness  of  the  earth  is  not  >; 

the  cause  of  fain,  but  it  is  the  cause  of  our  knowing  that  it  0 
has  rained.  These  two  things — the  premiss  which  produces 
our  conviction,  and  the  cause  which  produces  that  of  which 
we  are  convinced  —  are  the  more  likely  to  be  confounded 
together,  in  the  looseness  of  colloquial  language,  from  the 
circumstance  that  (as  has  b^en  above  remarked)  they  fre- 

*  Bacon. 


62  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

quently  coincide;  as,  e.  g.,  when  we  infer  that  the  ground 
will  be  wet,  from  the  fall  df  rain  which  j'^'oduccs  that  wetness. 
And  hence  it  is  that  the  same  words  have  come  to  be  applied, 
in  common,  to  each  kind  of  sequence  :  e.  g.,  an  effect  is  said 
to  ^*  follow"  from  a  cause,  and  a  conclusion  to  "  follow"  from 
the  premises ;  the  words  "  cause"  and  "  reason'^  are  each 
applied  indifferently,  both  to  a  cause,  properly  so  called,  and 
to  the  i^rcmiss  of  an  argument ;  though  '^  reason,"  in  strictness 
,  of  speaking,  should  be  confined  to  the  latter. 
- blSe?'"'^  "  Therefore,''  "  hence,"  "  consequently,"  etc.,  and 
l^thercfore,"  also  "  since,"  "  because,"  and  "  why,"  have  like- 
wise a  corresponding  ambiguity. 

The  multitude  of  the  words  which  bear  this  double  mean- 
ing (and  that  in  all  languages)  greatly  increases  our  liability 
to  be  misled  by  it;  since  thus  the  very' means  men  resort  to 
for  ascertaining  the  sense  of  any  expression,  are  infected  with 
the  very  same  ambiguity:  e.  g.,  if  we  inquire  what  is  meant 
by  a  "  cause,"  we  shall  be  told  that  it  is  that  from  which 
something  "follows;"  or  which  is  indicated  by  the  words 
"  therefore,"  "  consequently,"  etc.,  all  which  expressions  are 
as  equivocal  and  uncertain  in  their  signification  as  the  original 
one.  It  is  in  vain  to  attempt  ascertaining  by  the  balance  the 
true  amount  of  any  commodity,  if  uncertain  weights  are  placed 
in  the  opposite  scale.  Hence  it  is  that  so  many  writers,  in 
investigating  the  cause  to  which  any  fact  or  phenomenon  is 
to  be  attributed,  have  assigned  that  which  is  not  a  cause,  but 
only  a  proof  that  the  fact  is  so';  and  have  thus  been  led  into 
an  endless  train  of  errors  and  perplexities. 

Several,  however,  of  the  words  in  question,  though  cm- 
ployed  indiscriminately  in  both  significations,  seem  (as  was 
observed  in  the  case  of  the  word  "  reason")  in  their  primary 
and  strict  sense  to  be  confined  to  one.  "Ar/,"  in  Greek,  and 
"  ergo,"*  or  "  itaque,"  in  Latin,  seem  originally  and  properly 
to  denote  the  sequence  of  effect  from  cause;  ''c?pa,"f  and 
^'  igitur,"  that  of  conclusion  from  premises.     The  English 


*  Most  logical  writers  seem  not.  to  be  aware  of  this,  as  they  gene- 
rally, in  Latin  treatises,  employ  "ergo"  in  tlie  other  sense.  It  is 
from  the  Greek  epyo),  i.  e.,  "in  fact.*' 

f  "Apa  having  a  signification  of  fitness  or  coincidence  ;  whence  upw. 


CH.  II.,  §  4.]  CONVICTION.  63 

word  ^^  accordlnglij^  will  generally  be  found  to  correspond 
with  the  Latin  "  itaque/' 

The  interrogative  "  why"  is  employed  to  inquire,  either, 
first,  the  ^'reasons,"  (or  ''proof;")  secondly,  the. 
''cause;"  or,  thirdly,  the  "object  proposed,"  or   u;;?!^?^**^  ''*'    ^ 
final  cause :  e.  g.,  first.  Why  are  the  angles  of  a  ' 

triangle  equal  to  two  right  angles  ?  secondly,  Why  arc  the 
days  shorter  in  winter  than  in  summer?  thirdly.  Why  arc 
the  works  of  a  watch  constructed  as  they  are  ?"* 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  discovery  of  causes  belongs 
properly  to  the  province  of  the  philosopher ;  that  of  "  rea- 
sons," strictly  so  called,  (i.  e.,  arguments,)  to  that  of  the 
rhetorician ;  and  that,  though  each  will  have  frequent  occa- 
sion to  assume  the  character  of  the  other,  it  is  most  import- 
ant that  these  two  objects  should  not  be  confounded  together. 

§4. 

Of  signs,  then,  there  are  some  which,  from  a  certain  effect 
or* phenomenon,  infer  the  "cause"  of  it;   and  others  which,    N 
in   like  manner,   infer  some  "  condition"   which  is  not  the    -' 
cause. 

Of  these  last,  one  species  is  the  argument  from  testimony; 
the  premiss  being  the  existebce  of  the  tisstimony ; 
the  conclusion,  "the  truth  of  what  is  attested;  S^^'l^t^'^^ht. 
which  is  considered  as  a  "  condition"  of  the  tes- 
timony having  been  given;  since  it  is  evident  that  so  far 
only  as  this  is  allowed,  (i.  e.,  so  far  only  as  it  is  allowed  that 
the  testimony  would  not  have  been  given,  had  it  not  been 
true,)  can  this  argument  have  any  force.  Testimony  is  of 
various  kinds ;  and  may  possess  various  degrees  of  force,'|' 
not  only  in  reference  to  its  own  intrinsic  character,  but  in 
reference  also  to  the  kind  of  conclusion  that  it  is  brought  to 
support. 


*  See  the  article  Why,-  in  the  Appendix  to  the  treatise  on  Logic. 

f  Locke  has  touched  on  this  subject,  though  slightly  and  scantily. 
He  says,  "  In  the  testimony  of  others,  is  to  be  considered,  L  The 
number.  2.  The  integrity.  3.  The  skill  of  the  witnesses.  4.  The 
design  of  the  author,  where  it  is  a  testimony  out  of  a  book  cited. 
5.  The  consistency  of  the  parts  and  circumstances  of  the  relation. 
G.  Contrary  testimonies. 


64  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [rART   I. 

In  respect  of  this  latter  point,  the  first  and  croat  distinc- 
tion is  between  testimony  to  matters  of  fact ^  and  to  matters 
of  opmiofi,  or  doctrines. 

The  expressions  *'  matter  [or  question]  of  fact,"  and  '^  mat- 
ter of  opinion,"  are  not  emj)loyed  by  all  persons 
fart,  and  of  with  precision  and  uniformity.  But  the  notion 
opinion.  most  nearly  conformable  to  ordinary  usage  seems 

to  be  this  :  by  a  '^  matter  of  fact"  is  meant  something  which 
might,  conceivably,  be  submitted  to  the  senses;  and  about 
which  it  is  supposed  there  could  be  no  disagreement  among 
persons  who  should  \>q  j^resent,  and  to  whose  senses  it  should 
be  submitted ;  and  by  a  "  matter  [or  question]  of  opinion" 
is  understood  any  thing  respecting  which  an  exercise  oi'Judr/- 
ment  would  be  called  for  on  the  part  of  those  who  should 
have  certain  objects  before  them,  and  who  might  conceivably 
disagree  in  their  judgment  thereupon. 

This,  I  think,  is  the  description  of  what  people  in  general 

intend  to  denote  (though  often  without  having 

r)r^m»tX^^       thcmsclves  any  very  clear  notion  of  it)  by  these 

about  facts  phrascs.  Decidedly  it  is  not  meant,  by  those  at 
than  opinions,   f       ,       i  i  -,1  •  •         j.i     x 

least  who  use  language  with  any  precision,  that 
there  is  greater  certainty^  or  more  general  and  ready  agree- 
ment, in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other.  E.  g. :  That  one  of 
Alexander's  friends  did,  or  did  not,  administer  poison  to  him, 
every  one  would  allow  to  be  a  question  of  fact,  though  it 
may  be  involved  in  inextricable  doubt;  while  the  question, 
what  sort  of  an  act  that  was,  supposing  it  to  have  taken 
place,  all  would  allow  to  be  a  question  of  opinion;  though 
probably  all  would  agree  in  their  opinion  thereupon. 

Again,  it  is  not,  apparently,  necessary  that  a  ''  matter  of 

fact,"  in  order  to  constitute  it  such,  should  have 
fact,  one  evcr  bccu  actually  submitted — or  likely  to  be  so 

nmcdrauf  ho  — ^^  ^^^^  scHsc  of  "Imy  humau  being;  only,  that 
submittctl  to  it  should  be  one  which  conceivably  might  be  so 
the  senses.  submitted.  K.  g.  :  Whether  there  is  a  lake  in 
the  centre  of  New  Holland,  Avhether  there  is  land  at  the 
South  Pole,  whether  the  moon  is  inhabited,  would  generally 
be  admitted  to  be  questions  of  fact ;  although  no  one  has 
been  able  to  bear  testimony  concerning  them;  and,  in  the 
last  case,  we  arc  morally  certain  that  no  one  ever  will. 


CII.  II.,  §  4.]  CONVICTION.  65 

The  circumstance  that  chiefly  tends  to  produce  indistinct- 
ness and  occasional  inconsistency  in  the  use  of  q  .• 
these  phrases  is,  tliat  there  is  often  much  room  opi.nion  may 
for  the  exercise  of  judgment,  and  for  difference  ^^'^"^'^ *«  f^^cts. 
of  opinion,  in  reference  to  tilings  which  are,  themselves,  mat- 
ters of  fact.  E.  g. :  The  degree  of  credihility  of  the  wit- 
nesses who  attest  any  fact,  is,  itself,  a  matter  of  opinion ;  and 
so  in  respect  of  the  degree  of  weight  due  to  any  other  kind 
of  probabilities.  That  there  is,  or  is  not,  land  at  the  South 
Pole,  is  a  matter  of  fact ;  that  the  existence  of  land  there  is 
likcli/,  or  unlikely,  is  matter  of  opinion. 

And  in  this  and  many  other  cases,  different  questions  very 
closely  connected  are  very  apt  to  be  confounded  together,* 
and  the  proofs  belonging  to  one  of  them  brought  forward  as 
pertaining  to  the  other.  E.  g. :  A  case  of  alleged  prophecy 
shall  be  in  question:  the  event  said  , to  have  been  foretold 
shall  be  established  as  a  fact;  and  also  the  utterance  of  the 
supposed  prediction  before  the  event ',  and  this  will  perhaps 
be  assumed  as  proof  of  that  which  is  in  reality  another  ques- 
tion, and  a  *' question  of  opinion:"  whether  the  supposed 
prophecy  related  to  the  event  in  question  ',  and,  again,  whe- 
ther it  were  merely  a  conjecture  of  human  sagacity,  or  such 
as  to  imply  superhuman  prescience. 

Again,  whether  a  certain  passage  occurs  in  certain  MSS. 
of  the  Greek  Testament,  is  evidently  a  question  of  fact ;  but 
whether  the  words  imply  such  and  such  a  doctrine,  however 
indubitable  it  may  justly  appear  to  us,  is  evidently  a  "  matter 
of  opinion. "f 

>   It  is  to  be  observed  also,  that,  as  there  may  be  (as  I  have 
just  said)  questions  of  opinion  relative  to  facts, 
so  there  may  also  be  questions  of  fact  relative  to   late  to  o^t^^' 
opinions  :  i.  e.,  that  such  and  such  opinions  were,  •  ^^^^^• 
or  were  not,  maintained  at  such  a  time  and  place,  by  such 
and  such  persons,  is  a  question  of  fact. 

When  the  question  is  as  to  a  fact,  it  is  plain  we  have  to 
look  chiefly  to  the  honesty  of  a  witness,  his  accuracy,  and  his 
means  of  gaining  information.  When  the  question  is  about 
a  matter  of  opinion,  it  is  equally  plain  that  his  ahility  to  form 

*  Sec  Treatise  on  Fallacies,  "Irrelevant  Conclusion." 
f  See  preface  to  vol.  ii.  of  Translation  of  Ncander. 
3 


6G  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

a  judgment  is  no  loss  to  be  taken  into  account.*  But  tliougli 
this  is  admitted  by  all,  it  is  very  common  with  inconsiderate 
persons  to  overlook,  in  practice,  tlie  distinction,  and  to  mis- 
take as  to  ivhat  it  is  that,  in  each  case,  is  attested.  Facts, 
properly  so  called,  are,  we  should  remember,  individuals; 
though  the  term  is  often  extended  to  general  statements ; 
especially  when  these  are  well  established.  And  again,  the 
causes  or  other  circumstances  connected  with  some  event  or 
phenomenon  are  often  stated  as  a  part  of  the  very  fact  at- 
tested. If,  for  instance,  a  person  relates  his  having  found 
coal  in  a  certain  stratum;  or  if " he  states  that  in  the  East 
Indies  he  saw  a  number  of  persons,  who  had  been  sleeping 
exposed  to  the  moon's  rays,  afflicted  with  certain  symptoms, 
and  that  after  taking  a  certain  medicine  they  recovered,  he 
is  bearing  testimony  as  to  simple  matters  of  fact ;  but  if  he 
declares  that  the  stratum  in  question  constantly  contains 
coal ;  or  that  the  patients  in  question  were  so  affected  in  con- 
sequence of  the  moon's  rays — that  such  is  the  general  effect 
of  them  in  that  climate,  j"  and  that  that  medicine  is  a  cure  for 
such  symptoms,  it  is  evident  that  this  testimony,  however 
worthy  of  credit,  is  borne  to  a  different  hind  of  conclusion ; 
namely,  not  an  individual,  but  a  general,  conclusion,  and  one 
which  must  rest,  not  solely  on  the  veracity,  but  also  on  the 
judgment,  of  the  witness. 

Even  in  the  other  case,  however,  when  the  question  re- 
lates to  what  is  strictly  a  mattei*  of  fact,  the  in- 
wiuiesses*^^  tcllectual  character  of  the  witness  is  not  to  be 
wholly  left  out  of  the  account.  A  man  strongly 
influenced  by  prejudice,  to  which  the  weakest  men  are  ever 
the  most  liable,  may  even  fancy  he  sees  what  he  does  not. 
And  some  degree  of  suspicion  may  thence  attach  to  the  testi- 
mony of  prejudiced  though  honest  men,  when  their  preju- 
dices are  on  the  same  side  luith  their  testimony ;  for  otherwise 
their  testimony  may  even  be  the  stronger.     E.  g. :  The  early 

*  Testimony  to  matters  of  opinion  usually  receives  the  name  of 
authority ;  which  term,  however,  is  also  applied  when  facts  are  in 
question;  as  when  we  say  indiiferently,  "The  account  of  this  trans- 
action rests  on  the  authority" — or  "on  the  testimony — of  such  and 
such  an  historian."     See  Logic,  Appendix,  Art.  "Authority." 

f  Such  is  the  pirevailing,  if  not  universal,  belief  of  those  who  have 
resided  in  the  East  Indies. 


CH.  II.,  §  4.]  CONVICTION.  67 

disciples  of  Jesus  were,  mostly,  ignorant,  credulous,  and  pre- 
judiced men;  but  all  their  expectations,  all  tlieir  early  pre- 
judices, ran  counter  to  almost  every  thing  that  they  attested. 
They  were,  in  that  particular  case,  harder  to  be  convinced 
than  more  intelligent  and  enlightened  men  would  have  been. 
It  is  most  important,  therefore,  to  remember — what  is  often 
forgotten — that  credulity  and  incredulity  are  the  same  habit 
considered  in  reference  to  different  things.  The  more  easy 
of  belief  any  one  is  in  respect  of  what  falls  in  with  his 
wishes  or  preconceived  notions,  the  harder  of  belief  he  will 
be  of  any  thing  that  opposes  these.* 

Again,  in  respect  of  the  number  of  witnesses,  it  is  evident 
that,  other  points  being  equal,  many  must  have 
more  weight  than  one,  or  a  few ;  but  it  is  no  un-  ^itniSes.^ 
common  mistake  to  imagine  many  witnesses  to  be 
bearing  concurrent  testimony  to  the  same  thing,  when  in 
truth  they  are  attesting  different  things.  One  or  two  men 
may  be  bearing  original  testimony  to  some  fact  or  transac- 
tion ;  and  one  or  two  hundred,  who  are  repeating  what  they 
had  heard  from  these,  may  be,  in  reality,  only  bearing  wit- 
ness to  their  having  heard  it,  and  to  their  own  belief.  Mul- 
titudes may  agree  in  maintaining  some  system  or  doctrine, 
which  perhaps  one  out  of  a  million  may  have  convinced  him- 
self of  by  research  and  reflection )  while  the  rest  have  as- 
sented to  it  in  implicit  reliance  on  authority.  These  are  not, 
in  reality,  attesting  the  same  thing.  The  one  is,  in  reality, 
declaring  that  so  and  so  is,  as  lie  conceives,  a  conclusion 
fairly  established  by  reasons  pertaining  to  the  subject-matter; 
the  rest,  that  so  and  so  is  the  established  belief,  or  is  held  by 
persons  on  whose  authority  they  rely.  These  last  may  indeed 
have  very  good  ground  for  their  belief;  for  no  one  would  say 
that  a  man  who  is  not  versed  in  astronomy  is  not  justified  in 
believing  the  earth's  motion ;  or  that  the  many  millions  of 
persons  who  have  never  seen  the  sea,  are  credulous  in  be- 
lieving, on  testimony,  its  existence ;  but  still  it  is  to  be  re- 
membered that  they  are  not,  in  reality,  bearing  witness  to  the 
same  thing  as  the  others. 

Undesigned  testimony  is  manifestly,  so  far,  the  stronger; 
the  suspicion  of  fabrication  being  thus  precluded.     Slight 

*  See  Logic,  Book  II.,  chap,  ii.,  ^  1. 


T 


G8  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

incidental  hints,  therefore,  and  oblique  allusions 
Undesipned      ^q  j^^y  f^^^^  have  oftcn  much  more  weic-lit  than 

testimony.  ,.     .  •'        p  '  .  ...  »      i 

distinct,  formal  assertions  or  it.  And,  moreover, 
such  allusions  will  often  go  to  indicate  not  only  that  the  fact 
is  true,  but  that  it  was,  at  the  time  when  so  alluded  to,  noto- 
rious and  undisputed.  The  account  given  by  Herodotus,  of 
Xerxes  cutting  a  canal  through  the  isthmus  of  Athos,  which 
is  ridiculed  by  Juvenal,*  is  much  more  strongly  attested  by 
Thuc3-didcs  in  an  incidental  mention  of  a  place  ''  near  which 
some  remains  of  the  canal  might  be  seen/'  than  if  he  had 
distinctly  recorded  his  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the  narrative. 

So,  also,  the  many  slight  allusions  in  the  apostolic  Epistles 
to  the  sufferings  undergone  and  the  miracles  wrought  by  dis- 
ciples, as  things  familiar  to  the  readers,  are  much  more  de- 
cisive than  distinct  descriptions,  narratives,  or  assertions, 
would  have  been. 

Paley,  in  that  most  admirable  specimen  of  the  investigation 
of  this  kind  of  evidence,  the  '■'■Horcie  Paulince." 

Small  cironm-  ,.  ,  iPi.*  •. 

stances  may  puts  in  a  most  ncediul  caution  against  supposing 
w^I'^iit^^^^  that  because  it  is  on  very  minute  points  this  kind 
of  argument  turns,  therefore  the  importance  of 
these  points  in  establishing  the  conclusion  is  small.'\  The 
reverse,  as  he  justly  observed,  is  the  truth;  for  the  more  mi- 
nute and  intrinsically  trifling,  and  likely  to  escape  notice,  any 
point  is,  the  more  does  it  preclude  the  idea  of  design  and 
fabrication.  Imitations  of  natural  objects — flowers,  for  in- 
stance— when  so  skilfully  made  as  to  deceive  the  naked  eye, 
are  detected  by  submitting  the  natural  and  the  artificial  to  a 
microscope. 

The  same  remarks  will  apply  to  other  kinds  of  sign  also. 
The  number  and  position  of  the  nails  in  a  man's  shoe,  cor- 

'k  n  Velificatus  Athos,  et  quicquid  Groecie  meudax 
Audet  in  lustori<a." 

f  Thus  Swift  endeavored  (in  Gulliver's  Voyage  to  Laputa,  and  in 
some  of  his  poems)  to  cast  ridicule  on  some  of  the  evidence  on  which 
Bishop  Atterbury's  treasonable  correspondence  was  brought  home  to 
him ;  the  medium  of  proof  being  certain  allusions,  in  some  of  the 
letters,  to  a  hxme  lap-dog ;  as  if  the  importance  of  the  evidence  were 
to  be  measured  bj'  the  intrinsic  importance  of  the  dog.  But  Swift 
was  far  too  acute  a  man  probabl}'  to  have  fallen  himself  into  such  an 
error  as  he  was  endeavoring,  for  party  purposes,  to  bring  his  readers 
.  into. 


CH.  II.,  §  4.]  CONVICTION.  69 

responding  with  a  foot-mark,  or  a  notch  in  the  blade  of  a 
knife,  have  led  to  the  detection  of  a  murderer. 

The  testimony  of  adversaries* — including  under  this  term 
all  who  would  be  unwilling  to  admit  the  conclu- 
sion to  which  their  testimony  tends — has,  of  advcrsSs?^ 
course,  great  weight  derived  from  that  circum- 
stance. And  as  it  will,  oftener  than  not,  fall  under  the  head 
of  "undesigned,"  much  minute  research  will  often  be  need- 
ful, in  order  to  draw  it  out. 

In  oral  examination  of  witnesses,  a  skilful  cross-examiner 
will  often  elicit  from  a  reluctant  witness  most  im- 
portant truths,  which  the  witness  is  desirous  of  SaSon!^^"^'" 
concealing  or  disguising.  There  is  another  kind 
of  skill,  which  consists  in  so  alarming,  misleading,  or  be- 
wildering an  honest  witness  as  to  throw  discredit  on  his  tes- 
timony, or  pervert  the  effect  of  it.'j'  Of  this  kind  of  art, 
which  may  be  characterized  as  the  mo^t,  or  one  of  the  most, 
base  and  depraved  of  all  possible  employments  of  intellectual 
power,  I  shall  only  make  one  further  observation.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  the  most  effectual  mode  of  eliciting  truth,  is  quite 
different  from  that  by  which  an  honest,  simple-minded  wit- 
ness is  most  easily  baffled  and  confused.  I  have  seen  the 
experiment  tried,  of  subjecting  a  witness  to  such  a  kind  of 
cross-examination,  by  a  practiced  lawyer,  as  would  have  been, 
I  am  convinced,  the  most  likely  to  alarm  and  perplex  many 
an  honest  witness — without  any  effect  in  shaking  the  testi- 
mony ;  and  afterwards,  by  a  totally  opposite  mode  of  examina- 
tion, such  as  would  not  have  at  all  perplexed  one  who  was 
honestly  telling  the  truth,  that  same  witness  was  drawn  on, 
step  by  step,  to  acknowledge  the  utter  falsity  of  the  whole. 

Generally  speaking,  I  believe  that  a  quiet,  gentle,  and 
straightforward,  though  full  and  careful  examination,  will  be 
the  most  adapted  to  elicit  truth;  and  that  the  manoeuvres 

*  E.  g. :  I  have  seeu,  in  a  professedly  argumentative  work,  a 
warning  inserted  against  the  alleged  unsound  doctrine  contained  in 
the  Article  "Person"  in  Appendix  to  the  Logic;  which  being  unac- 
companied hy  any  proofs  of  unsoundness,  may  be  regarded  as  a  strong 
testimony  to  the  unanswerable  character  of  the  reasons  I  have  there 
adduced. 

f  See  an  extract  from  a  valuable  pamphlet  on  the  "License  of 
Counsel,"  cited  in  the  Lecture  appended  to  Part  IL 


^ 


70  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I." 

and  tlie  browbeating,  -vvliich  are  the  most  adapted  to  confuse 
an  honest  witness,  are  just  what  the  dishonest  one  is  the  best 
prepared  for.  The  more  the  storm  blusters,  the  more  eare- 
I'ully  he  wraps  round  him  the  cloak,  which  a  warm  sunshine 
will  often  induce  him  to  throw  off. 

In  any  testimony  (whether  oral  or  written)  that  is  unwill- 
ingly borne,  it  will  more  frequently  consist  in 
adversuHes^     Something  incklentalli/  implied  than  in  a  distinct 
usually  iuci-     statement.     For  instance,  the  generality  of  men, 

deutal.  ,  ^  ^  ^  *^ 

who  are  accustomed  to  cry  up  common  sense  as 
preferable  to  systems  of  art,  have  been  brought  to  bear  wit- 
ness, collectively,  (see  Preface  to  "Elements  of  Logic,")  on 
the  opposite  side ;  inasmuch  as  each  of  them  gives  the  pre- 
ference to  the  latter,  in  the  subject,  whatever  it  may  be,  in 
which  he  is  most  conversant. 

Sometimes,  however,  an  adversary  will  be  compelled  dis- 
tinctly to  admit  something  that  makes  against  him,  in  order 
to  contest  some  other  point.  Thus,  the  testimony  of  the 
Evangelists  that  the  miracles  of  Jesus  were  acknowledged  by 
the  unbelievers,  and  attributed  to  magic,  is  confirmed  by  the 
Jews,  in  a  work  called  "Toldoth  Jeschu;"  (the"Greneration 
of  Jesus  ;'^)  which  must  have  been  compiled  (at  whatever 
period)  from  traditions  existing  from  the  very  first ;  since  it 
is  incredible  that  if  those  contemp>orarics  of  Jesus  who  op- 
posed him  had  denied  the  fact  of  the  miracles  having  been 
wrought,  their  descendants  thould  have  admitted  the  facts, 
and  resorted  to  the  hypothesis  of  magic. 

The  negative  testimony,  either  of  adversaries  or  of  indif- 
ferent persons,  is  often  of  great  weight.     When  statements 

or  arguments,  publicly  put  forth  and  generally 
tesfimony.        known,   remain   uncontradicted,   an   appeal   may 

fairly  be  made  to  this  circumstance,  as  a  confirm- 
atory testimony  on  the  part  of  those  acquainted  with  the 
matter,  and  interested  in  it ;  especially  if  they  are  likely  to 
be  unwilling  to  admit  the  conclusion.* 

It  is  manifest  that  the  concurrent  testimony,  positive  or 

negative,  of  several  witnesses,  when  there  can 
Satimon^y!*^      havc  bccn  no  concert,  and  especially  when  there 

is  any  rivalry  or  hostility  between  them,  carries 

*  See  Hinds  on  the  "Inspiration  of  Scripture." 


*CII.  II.,  §  4.]  CONVICTION.  71 

with  it  a  weight  independent  of  that  which  may  belong  to 
each  of  them  considered  separately.  For  though,  in  such  a 
case,  each  of  the  witnesses  should  be  even  considered  its 
wholly  undeserving  of  credit,  still  the  chances  might  be  incal- 
culable against  their  all  agreeing  in  the  saiJie  falsehood.  It 
is  in  this  kind  of  testimony  that  the  generality  of  mankind 
believe  in  the  motions  of  the  earth,  and  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  etc.  Their  belief  is  not  the  result  of  their  own  obstii'- 
vation  and  calculations ;  nor  j^et  again  of  their  implicit  re- 
liance on  the  skill  and  the  good  faith  of  any  one  or  more 
astronomers ;  but  it  rests  on  the  agreement  of  many  independ- 
ent and  rival  astronomers,  who  want  neither  the  ability  nor 
the  will  to  detect  and  expose  each  other's  errors.  It  is  on 
similar  grounds,  as  Dr.  Hinds  has  justly  observed,*  that  all 
men,  except  about  two  or  three  in  a  million,  believe  in  the 
existence  and  in  the  genuineness  of  manuscript  of  ancient 
books,  such  as  the  Scriptures.  It  is  not  that  they  have  them- 
selves examined  these ;  or,  again,  (as  some  represent,)  that 
they  rely  implicitly  on  the  good  faith  of  those  who  profess  to 
have  done  so ;  but  they  rely  on  the  concurrent  and  uncontra- 
dicted testimony  of  all  who  have  made,  or  who  might  make, 
the  examination ;  both  unbelievers,  and  believers  of  various 
hostile  sects ;  any  one  of  whom  would  be  sure  to  seize  any 
opportunity  to  expose  the  forgeries  or  errors  of  his  oppo- 
nents. 

This  observation  is  the  more  important,  because  many  per- 
-sons  are  liable  to  be  startled  or  dismayed  on  .its  being  pointed 
out  to  them  that  they  have  been  believing  something — as 
they  are  led  to  suppose — on  very  insufficient  reasons ;  when 
the  truth  is,  perhaps,  that  they  have  been  misstating  their 
reasons. f 

A  remarkable  instance  of  the  testimony  of  adversaries, 
both  positive  and  negative,  has  been  afforded  in  the  questions 
respecting  penal  colonies.  The  pernicious  character  of  the 
system  was  proved  in  various  publications,  and  subsequently, 
before  two  committees  of  the  House  of  Commons,  from  the 
testimony  of  persons  who  were  friendly  to  that  system :  the 
report  and  evidence  taken  before  those  committees  was  pub- 
lished ;  and  all  this  remained  uncontradicted  for  years ;  till, 

*  Hinds  on  Inspiration.  \  See  Appendix,  [D.'] 


72  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I.  • 

on  motions  being  made  for  the  abolition  of  the  system,*  per- 
sons had  the  effrontery  to  come  forward  at  the  eleventh  hour 
and  deny  the  trutli  of  the  representations  given  :  thus  pro- 
nouncing on  themselves  a  heavy  condemnation,  for  having 
either  left  that  representation — supposing  they  thought  it  false 
— so  long  unrcfiited,  or  else  denying  what  they  knew  to  be  true. 

Misrepresentation,  again,  of  argument — attempts  to  sup- 
press evidence,  or  to  silence  a  speaker  by  clamor — reviling 
and  personality,  and  false  charges — all  these  are  presumptions 
of  the  same  kind  :  that  the  cause  against  which  they  are 
brought  is — in  the  opinion  of  adversaries  at  least — unassail- 
able on  the  side  of  truth. 

As  for  the  character  of  the  particular  things  that  in  any 
Character  ^^^^  ^^7  ^®  attested,  it  is  plain  that  we  have  to 
of  things  look  to  the  probability  or  improbability,  on  the 

one  hand,  of  their  being  real,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  of  their  having  been  either  imagined  or  invented  by  the 
persons  attesting  them. 

Any  thing  unlikely  to  occu?',  is,  so  far,  the  less  likely  to 
have  been  feigned  or  fancied ;  so  that  its  antece- 
sica"§^i"npro-  ^^"*  improbability  may  sometimes  add  to  the 
i)abie,  the  less  credibility  of  those  who  bear  witness  to  it.")"  And 
felgrved?  ^  again,  any  thing  which,  however  likely  to  take 
place,  would  not  have  been  likely,  otherwise,  to 
enter  the  mind  of  fJwsie  2)nJ'ticula7'  persons  who  attest  to  it, 
or  would  be  at  variance  with  their  interest  or  prejudices,  is 
thereby  rendered  the  more  credible.  Thus,  as  has  been- 
above  remarked,  when  the  disciples  of  Jesus  record  occur- 
rences and  discourses  such  as  were  both  foreign  to  all  the 
notions,  and  at  variance  with  all  the  prejudices,  of  any  man 
living  in  those  days,  and  of  Jews  more  especially,  this  is  a 
strong  confirmation  of  their  testimony. 

It  is  also,  in  some  cases,  a  strongly  confirmatory  circum- 
_,, .  .       stance  that  the  witness  should  appear  not  to  be- 

Things  not  ,  ,  ^^  .        i 

understood,  Ucve,  himsclf,  or  not  to  understand,  the  thing  he 
heved/^"  ^^  reporting,  when  it  is  such  as  is,  to  us,  not  unin- 
those  who        tcllii^ible  nor  incredible.     E.  g.:  When  an  ancient 

attest  them.       -i  •   ,      •  i  •  .       x?  .    • 

historian   records  a  report  or    certain  voyagers 

*  Sec  "Substance  of  a  Speech  on  Transportation,  delivered  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  on  the  19th  of  May,  1840,"  etc. 

I  See  Sermon  IV.,  on  "A  Christian  Place  of  Worship." 


cir.  IT.,  §  4.]  CONVICTION.  73 

having  sailed  to  a  distant  country  in  which  they  found  the 
shadows  falling  on  the  opposite  side  to  that  which  they  had 
been  accustomed,  and  regards  the  account  as  incredible,  from 
not  being  able  to  understand  how  such  a  phenomenon  could 
occur,  wc — recognizing  at  once  what  we  know  takes  place  in 
the  Southern  hemisphere,  and  perceiving  that  he  could  not 
have  invented  the  account — have  the  more  reason  for  believ- 
ing it.  The  report  thus  becomes  analogous  to  the  copy  of  an 
inscription  in  a  language  unknown  to  him  who  copied  it. 

The  negative  circumstance,  also,  of  a  witness's  omitting  to 
mention  such  things  as  it  is  morally  certain  he  loould  have  ^ 
mentioned  had  he  been  inventing,  adds  great  weight  to  what 
he  does  say. 

And  it  is  to  be  observed*  that,  in  many  cases,  silence, 
omission,  absence  of  certain  statements,  etc.,  will  have  even 
greater  weight  than  much  that  we  do  find  stated.     E.  g. : 
Suppose  we  meet  with  something  in  a  passage  of  one  of  Paul's 
Epistles  which  indicates  with  a  certain  degree  of 
probability  the  existence  of  such  and  such  a  cus-    fm-ee" T^ 
tom,  institution,  etc.,  and  suppose  there  is  just    probabiHties 
the  same  degree  of  probability  that  such  and  such 
another  custom,  institution,  or  event,  which  he  does  not  men- 
tion anywhere,  would  have  been  mentioned  by  him  in  the 
same  place,  supposing  it  to  have  really  existed  or  occurred : 
this  omission,  and  the  negative  argument  resulting,  has  in- 
comparably .the  more  weight  than  the  other,  if  we  also  find 
that  same  omission  in  all  the  other  Epistles,  and  in  every 
one  of  the  books  of  the  New  Testament. 

E.  g. :  The  universal  omission  of  all  notice  of  the  office  of 
Hiereus  (a  sacerdotal  priest)  among  the  Christian  ministersf 
— of  all  reference  to  one  supreme  Church  bearing  rule  over 
all  the  rest| — of  all  mention  of  any  transfer  of  the  Sabbath 
from  the  seventh  day  to  the  first§ — are  instances  of  decisive 
negative  arguments  of  this  kind. 


*  See  Essay  on  the  **Omission  of  Cfeeclp,"  etc. 

f  See  Discourse  on  the  Christian  Priesthood,  appended  to  the 
Banipton  Lectures.  Also,  Bernard's  translation  of  Vitringa  on  the 
"Synagogue  and  the  Churcli." 

X  See  Essay  II.,  on  the  "Kingdom  of  Christ." 

1  See  "Thoughts  on  the  Sabbath." 


74  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

So,  also,  the  omission  of  all  allusion  to  the  future  state,  in 
those  parts  of  the  writings  of  Moses  in  which  he  is  urging 
the  Israelites  to  obedience  by  appeals  to  their  hopes  and 
fears ;  and,  again,  in  the  whole  of  the  early  part  of  the  Book 
of  Job,  in  which  that  topic  could  not  have  failed  to  occur  to 
persons  believing  in  the  doctrine — this  is  a  plain  indication 
that  no  revelation  of  the  doctrine  was  intended  to  be  given 
in  those  books ;  and  that  the  passage,  often  cited,  from  the 
Book  of  Job,  as  having  reference  to  the  resurrection,  must 
be  understood  as  relating  to  that  temporal  deliverance  which 
is  narrated  immediately  after :  since  else  it  would  (as  Bishop 
Warburton  has  justly  remarked)  make  all  the  rest  of  the 
book  unintelligible  and  absurd.* 

Again,  "  although  we  do  not  admit  the  positive  authority 
of  antiquity  in  favor  of  any  doctrine  or  practice  which  we  do 
not  find  sanctioned  by  Scripture,  we  may  yet,  without  incon- 
sistency, appeal  to  it  negatively,  in  refutation  of  many  errors. 
...  It  is  no  argument  in  favor  of  the  millennium  that  it  was 
a  notion  entertained  by  Justin  Martyr,  since  we  do  not  be- 
lieve him  to  have  been  inspired,  and  he  may  therefore  have 
drawn  erroneous  inferences  from  certain  texts  of  Scripture ; 
but  it  is  an  argument  against  the  doctrine  of  transubstantia- 
tion  that  we  find  no  traces  of  it  for  above  six  centuries ;  and 
against  the  adoration  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  that  in  like  manner 
it  does  not  appear  to  have  been  inculcated  till  the  sixth  cen- 
tury. It  is  very  credible  that  the  first  Christian  writers,  who 
were  but  men,  should  have  made  mistakes  to  which  all  men 
are  liable,  in  their  interpretations  of  Scripture;  but  it  is  not 
credible  that  such  important  doctrines  as  transubstantiation 
and  the  adoration  of  the  Virgin  Mary  should  have  been 
transmitted  from  the  apostles,  if  we  find  no  trace  of  them  for 
five  or  six  centuries  after  the  birth  of  our  Saviour."f 

.  To  take  another  instance  :  I  have  remarked  in  the  Lectures 
Absence  of  all  OQ  Political  Economy,  (Lect.  5,)  that  the  descrip- 
reeordsof  tions  somc  Writers  give  of  the  civilization  of 
tng^mviiized  mankind,' by  the  spontaneous  origin,  among  tribes 
themselves.  ^^  savages,  of  the  various  arts  of  life,  one  by 
one,  are  to  be  regarded  as  wholly  imaginary,  and  not  agreeing 

*  See  "  Essay  on  a  Future  State."     (First  Series.) 
f  Bishop  Pepys's  Charge,  1815. 


CII.  II.,  §  4.]  CONVICTION.  75 

witli  any  thing  that  ever  did  or  can  actually  take  place ;  in- 
asmuch as  there  is  no  record  or  tradition  of  any  race  of  sav- 
ages having  ever  civilized  themselves  without  extern^  aid. 
Numerous  as  are  the  accounts  we  have  of  savages  who  have 
not  received  such  aid,  we  do  not  hear,  in  any  one  instance, 
of  their  having  ceased  to  be  savages.  And,  again,  abundant 
as  are  the  traditions  (though  mostly  mixed  up  with  much 
that  is  fabulous)  of  the  origin  of  civilization  in  various  na- 
tions, all  concur  in  tracing  it  up  to  some  foreign,  or  some 
superhuman,  instructor.  If  ever  a  nation  did  emerge,  un- 
assisted, from  the  savage  state,  all  memory  of  such  an  event 
is  totally  lost. 

Now  the  absence  of  all  such  records  or  traditions,  in  a  case 
where  there  is  every  reason  to  expect  that  an  instance  could 
be  produced  if  any  had  ever  occurred — this  negative  circum- 
stance (in  conjunction  with  the  other  indications  there  ad- 
duced) led  me,  many  years  ago,  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is 
impossible  for  mere  savages  to  civilize  themselves — that  con- 
sequently man  must  at  some  period  have  received  the  rudi- 
ments of  civilization  from  a  suj)erhuman  instructor — and  that 
savages  are  probably  the  descendants  of  civilized  men,  whom 
wars  and  other  afflictive  visitations  have  degraded.* 

It  might  seem  superfluous  to  remark  that  none  but  very 
general  rules,  such  as  the  above,  can  be  profitably  laid  down ; 
and  that  to  attempt  to  supersede  the  discretion  to  be  exer- 
cised on  each  individual  case,  hy  fixing  precisely/  what  degree 
of  weight  is  to  be  allowed  to  the  testimony  of  such  and  such 
persons,  would  be,  at  least,  useless  trifling,  and,  if  intro- 
duced in  practice,  a  most  mischievous  hindrance  of  a  right 
decision.  But  attempts  of  this  kind  have  actually  been 
made,  in  the  systems  of  jurisprudence  of  some  countries; 
and  with  such  results  as  might  have  been  anticipated.  The 
reader  will  find  an  instructive  account  of  some  of  this  un- 
wise legislation  in  an  article  on  ''German  Jurisprudence"  in 
the  Edinburgh  Review  ;  from  which  an  extract  is  subjoined 
in  the  Appendix."!* 


*  See  an  extract  in  the  Appendix  [DD]  from  tlie  Lecture  above 
alluded  to. 

t  Appendix  [DD.] 


76  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

Testimony  on  oatli  is  commonly  regarded  as  far  more  to  bo 
relied  on — other  points  being  equal — than  any  that  is  not 
sworn  to.  This,  however,  holds  good  not  universally,  but 
only  in  respect  of  certain  intermediate  characters  between 
the  truly  respectable  and  the  worthless.  For  these  latter 
will  either  not  scruple  to  take  a  false  oath,  or  if  they  do,  will 
satisfy  their  conscience  by  various  evasions  and  equivocations ^ 
such  as  are  vulgarly  called  "cheating  the' devil;"  so  as  to 
give,  substantially,  false  testimony,  while  they  cheat  (in 
reality)  themselves,  by  avoiding  literal  perjury.  An  upright 
man,  again,  considers  himself  as  virtually  on  his  oath  when- 
ever he  makes  a  deliberate,  solemn  assertion,  and  feels  bound 
to  guard  against  conveying  any  false  impression. 

But,  even  in  respect  of  those  intermediate  characters,  the 
influence  of  an  oath  in  securing  veracity  is,  I  conceive,  far 
less  than  some  suppose.  Let  any  one  compare  the  evidence 
given  on  oath,  with  that  of  those  religionists  who  are  allowed 
by  law  to  substitute  a  "solemn  affirmation,"  and  he  will  find 
no  signs  of  the  advantage  of  sworn  testimony.  Or,  if  he 
consider  these  religionists  as,  generally,  more  conscientious 
than  the  average,  let  him  compare  the  evidence  (of  which  we 
have  such  voluminous  records)  given  before  committees  of  the 
House  of  Lords,  which  is  on  oath,  with  that  before  commit- 
tees of  the  Commons,  which  is  not;  and  he  will  find  about  the 
same  proportion  of  honest  and  of  dishonest  testimony  in  each. 

Still,  there  doubtless  are  persons  who  would  scruple  to 
swear  to  a  falsehood  which  they  would  not  scruple  deliber- 
ately to  affirm.  But  I  doubt  whether  this  proves  much  in 
favor  of  the  practice  of  requiring  oaths — whether  its  chief 
eflFect  is  not  to  lower  men's  sense  of  the  obligations  to  veracity 
on  occasions  when  they  are  not  on  oath.  The  expressions 
which  the  practice  causes  to  be  so  much  in  use,  of  ^^  calling 
God  to  witness,"  and  of  ^Hnvoking  the  Divine  judgment," 
tend  to  induce  men  to  act  as  if  they  imagined  that  God  does 
?zoi(  witness  their  conduct  unless  specially  "called  on;"  and 
that  he  will  not  judge  false  testimony  unless  with  our  per- 
mission ;  and  thus  an  habitual  disregard  for  veracity  is 
fostered.  If  oaths  were  abolished — leaving  ih.e  penalties  for 
false-witness  (no  unimportant  part  of  our  security)  unaltered 
— I  am  convinced  that,  on  the  whole,  testimony  would  be 
more  trustworthy  than  it  is. 


CH.  II.,  §  4.]  CONVICTION.  77 

Still,  since  there  are,  as  I  have  said,  persons  whose  oath — 
as  matters  now  stand — is  more  worthy  of  credit  than  their 
word,  this  circumstance  must  be  duly  considered  in  weighing 
the"  value  of  testimony.* 

The  remark  above  made,  as  to  the  force  of  concurrent  testi- 
monies, even  though  each,  separately,  might  have  concurrent 
little  or  none,"!"  but  whose  accidental  agreement  f<isns  of 
in  a  falsehood  would  be  extremely  improbable,  is 
not  solely  applicable  to  the  argument  from  testimoni/,  but 
may  be  extended  to  many  arguments  of  other  kinds  also ;  in 
which  a  similar  calculation  of  chances  will  enable  us  to  draw 
a  conclusion,  sometimes  even  amounting  to  moral  certainty, 
from  a  combination  of  data  which  singly  would  have  had 
little  or  no  weight.  E.  g.  :  If  any  one  out  of  a  hundred 
men  throw  a  stone  which  strikes  a  certain  object,^  there  is 
but  a  slight  probability,  from  that  fact  alpne,  that  he  aimed 
at  that  object;  but  if  all  the  hundred  threw  stones  which 
struck  the  same  object,  no  one  would  doubt  that  they  aimed 
at  it.  It  is  from  such  a  combination  of  argument  that  we 
infer  the  existence  of  an  intelligent  Creator,  from  the  marks 
of  contrivance  visible  in  the  universe,  though  many  of  these 
are  such  as,  taken  singly,  might  well  be  conceived  undesigned 
and  accidental ;  but  that  they  should  all  be  such,  is  morally 
impossible. 

And  here  it  may  be  observed  that  there  may  be  such  a 
concurrence  of  testimonies  or  other  signs  as  shall   -rggij^Q^j^g 
have  very  considerable  weight,  even  though  they  mutually 
do  not  relate  directly  to  one  individual  conclu-   ^^^^  ^^^  ^^^' 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  [DDD.] 

•j-  It  is  observed  by  Dr.  Campbell  that  "it  deserved  likewise  to  be 
attended  to  on  this  subject,  that  in  a  number  of  eoncurrcnt  testi- 
monies, (in  cases  wherein  there  could  have  been  no  previous  con- 
cert,) there  is  a  probability  distinct  from  that  which  may  be  termed 
the  sum  of  the  probabilities  resulting  from  the  testimonies  of  the 
witnesses,  a  probability  which  would  remain  even  though  the  wit- 
nesses were  of  such  a  character  as  to  merit  no  faith  at  all.  This 
probability  arises  purely  from  the  concurrence  itself.  That  such  a 
concurrence  should  spring  from  chance,  is  as  one  to  infinite  ;  that  is, 
in  other  words,  morally  impossible.  If,  therefore,  concert  be  ex- 
cluded, there  remains  no  other  cause  but  the  reality  of  tlie  fact." — 
CamphcWs  Fhilosophj/  of  Rhetoric,  Ch.  V.,  Book  I.,  Part  III.,  p.  125. 

t  If  I  recollect  rightly,  these  are  the  words  of  Mr.  Dugald  Stewart. 


78  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

sion,  but  to  similar  ones.  E.  g. :  Before  the  reality  of 
aerolites  [meteoric  stones]  was  established  as  it  now  is,  we 
should  have  been  justified  in  not  giving  at  once  full  credit  to 
some  report,  resting  on  ordinary  evidence,  of  an  occurrence 
so  antecedently  improbable  as  that  of  a  stone's  falling  from 
the  sky.  But  if  twenty  distinct  accounts  had  reached  us, 
from  various  parts  of  the  globe,  of  a  like  phenomenon,  though 
no  two  of  the  accounts  related  to  the  same  individual  stone, 
still,  we  should  have  judged  this  a  decisive  concurrence; 
(and  this  is  in  fact  the  way  in  which  the  reality  of  the  phe- 
nomenon was  actually  established ;)  because  each  testimony, 
though  given  to  an  individual  case,  has  a  tendency  towards 
the  general  conclusion  in  which  all  concur,  viz.,  the  possi- 
hilitii  of  such  an  event;  and  this  being  once  admitted,  the 
antecedent  objection  against  each  individual  case  is  removed. 
The  same  reasonin^^  applies  to  several  of  the  New  Testament 
parables,  as  that  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  the  Laborers  in  the 
Vineyard,  the  Rich  Man  and  Lazarus,  etc.,  each  of  which 
contains  an  allusion  to  the  future  call  of  the  Gentiles — so 
little  obvious,  however,  that  it  would  have  been  hardly  war- 
rantable so  to  interpret  any  one  of  them,  if  it  had  stood 
alone. 

Great  care  is  requisite  in  setting  forth  clearly,  especially 
in  any  popular  discourse,  arguments  of  this  nature  :  the  gen- 
erality of  men  being  better  qualified  for  understanding  (to 
use  Lord  Bacon's  words)  '^particulars,  one  by  one,''  than  for 
taking  a  comprehensive  view  of  a  whole )  and  therefore  in  a 
galaxy  of  evidence,  as  it  may  be  called,  in  which  the  bril- 
liancy of  no  single  star  can  be  pointed  out,  the  lustre  of  the 
combination  is  often  lost  on  them. 

Hence  it  is,  as  was  remarked  in  the  Treatise  on  Fallacies, 
that  the  sophism  of  '' composition,"-  as  it  is 
^^Jl^.'^-^.;?^,.  called,  so  frequently  misleads  men.  It  is  not 
improbable  (in  the  above  example)  that  each  or 
the  stones,  considered  sciJarately,  may  have  been  thrown  at 
random ;  and  therefore  the  same  is  concluded  of  all,  consid- 
ered in  conjunction.  Not  that,  in  such  an  instance  as  this, 
any  one  would  reason  so  weakly;  but  that  a  still  greater 
absurdity  of  the  very  same  kind  is  involved  in  the  rejection 
of  the  evidences  of  our  religion,  will  be  plain  to  any  one 


CH.  II.,  §  5.]  CONVICTION.  79 

who  considers,  not  merely  tlie  individual  force,  but  the  num- 
her  and  variety  of  those  evidences.* 

§5. 

And  here  it  may  be  observed,  that  though  the  easiest 
jjojmlar  way  of  practically  refuting  the  fallacy  -^yiiat  is 
just  mentioned  (or  indeed  any  fillacy)  is  by  ^'^-^"^^Vy  ^^^^ 
bringing  forward  a  parallel  case,  where  it  leads  atcuinS^ny 
to  a  manifest  absurdity,  a  metaphysical  objection  supposition. 
may  still  be  urged  against  many  cases  in  which  we  thus 
reason  from  calculation  of  chances;  an  objection  not  perhaps 
likely  practically  to  influence  any  one,  but  which  may  afford 
the  sophist  a  triumph  over  those  who  are  unable  to  find  a 
solution;  and  which  may  furnish  an  excuse  for  the  rejection 
of  evidence  which  one  is  previously  resolved  not  to  admit. 
If  it  were  answered  then,  to  those  who  maintain  that  the 
universe,  which  exhibits  so  many  marks  of  design,  might  be 
the  work  of  non-intelligent  causes,  that  no  one  would  believe 
it  possible  for  such  a  work  as,  e.  g.,  the  Iliad,  to  be  produced 
by  a  fortuitous  shaking  together  of  the  letters  of  the  alpha- 
bet, the  sophist  might  challenge  us  to  explain  why  even  this 
last  supposition  should  be  regarded  as  less  probable  than  any 
other;  since  the  letters  of  which  the  Iliad  is  composed,  if 
shaken  together  at  random,  must  fall  in  some  form  or  other ; 
and  though  the  chances  are  millions  of  millions  to  one  against 
that,  or  any  other  determinate  order,  there  are  precisely  as 
many  chances  against  one  as  against  another,  whether  more 
or  less  regular.  And  in  like  manner,  astonished  as  we  should 
be,  and  convinced  of  the  intervention  of  artifice,  if  we  saw 
any  one  draw  out  all  the  cards  in  a  pack  in  regular  sequences, 
it  is  demonstrable  that  the  chances  are  not  more  against  that 
order  than  against  any  one  determinate  order  we  might 
choose  to  fix  upon ;  against  that  one,  for  instance,  in  which 
the  cards  are  at  this  moment  actually  lying  in  any  individual 
pack.  The  multitude  of  the  chances,  therefore,  he  would 
say,  against  any  series  of  events,  does  not  constitute  it  im- 
probable; since  the  like  happens  to  every  one  every  day. 

*  Mr.  Davison,  in  the  introduction  to  his  work  on  Prophecy, 
states  strongly  the  cumulative  force  of  a  multitude  of  small  parti- 
culars.    Sec  chap,  ill.,  §  4,  of  this  treatise. 


80  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

E.  g. :  A  man  walking  through  London  streets,  on  his  busi- 
ness, meets  accidenttilly  hundreds  of  others  passing  to  and 
fro  on  theirs;  and  he  would  not  say  at  the  close  of  the  day 
that  any  thing  improhahle  had  occurred  to  him )  yet  it  would 
almost  baffle  calculation  to  compute  the  chances  against  his 
meeting  precisely  those  very  persons,  in  the  order  and  at  the 
times  and  places  of  his  actually  meeting  each.  The  paradox 
thus  seemingly  established,  though  few  might  be  practically 
misled  by  it,  many  would  be  at  a  loss  to  solve,  and  an  effect 
may  sometimes  thus  be  produced  analogous  to  that  of  what 
is  sometimes,  in  war,  called  a  "barren  victory;"  i.  e.,  one 
which  has  no  direct  immediate  result,  but  which  yet  wiU' 
often  produce  a  most  important  moral  result,  by  creating  an 
impression  of  military  superiority. 

The  truth  is,  that  any  supposition  is  justly  called  improba- 
ble, not  from  the  number  of  chances  against  it, 
meant^byan  considered  Independently,  but  from  the  number 
improbability  of  chances  against  it  compared  with  those  which 
of  its  having  lie  against  some  oi'^/ie?' Supposition.  We  call  the 
many  chances  drawing  of  a  prize  in  the  lottery  improbable,  though 
there  be  but  five  to  one  against  it;  because  there 
are  more  chances  of  a  blank  :  on  the  other  hand,  if  any  one 
were  cast  on  a  desert  island  under  circumstances  which  war- 
ranted his  believing  that  the  chances  were  a  hundred  to  one 
against  any  one's  having  been  there  before  him,  yet  if  he 
found,  on  the  sand,  pebbles  so  arranged  as  to  form  distinctly 
the  letters  of  a  man's  name,  he  would  not  only  conclude  it 
probable,  but  absolutely  certain  that  some  human  being  had 
been  there ;  because  there  would  be  millions  of  chances 
against  those  forms  having  been  produced  by  the  fortuitous 
action  of  the  waves.  Yet  if,  instead  of  this,  I  should  find 
some  tree  on  the  island  such  that  the  chances  appeared  to  me 
five  to  one  against  its  having  grown  there  spontaneously,  still, 
if,  as  before,  I  conceive  the  chances  a  hundred  to  one  against 
any  man's  having  planted  it  there,  I  should  at  once  reckon 
this  last  as  the  more  unlikely  supposition. 

So  also,  in  the  instance  above  given,  2iwy  unmeaning  form 
into  which  a  number  of  letters  might  fall,  would  not  be  called 
improbable,  countless  as  the  chances  are  against  that  particu- 
lar order,  because  there  ^ixejust  as  many  against  each  one  of 
all  other  unmeaning  forms ;  so  that  no  one  would  be  compa- 


cir.  II.,  §  5.]  CONVICTION.  81 

rativdy  improbable;  but  if  the  letters  formed  a  coherent 
poem,  it  would  then  be  called  incalculably  improbable  that 
this  form  should  have  been  fortuitous,  though  the  chances 
against  it  remain  the  very  same  \  because  there  must  be  much 
fewer  chances  against  the  supposition  of  its  having  been  the 
work  of  design.  The  probability,  in  short,  of  any  suppo- 
sition, is  estimated  from  a  compa7'ison  with  each  of  its  alter- 
natives. The  inclination  of  the  balance  cannot  be  ascer- 
tained from  knowing  the  weights  in  one  scale,  unless  we 
know  what  is  in  the  opposite  scale.  So  also  the  pressure  of 
the  atmosphere  (equivalent  to  about  thirty  thousand  pounds 
'  on  the  body  of  an  ordinary  man)  is  unfclt,  while  it  is  equa- 
ble on  all  parts,  and  balanced  by  the  air  within  the  body ; 
but  is  at  once  perceived,  when  the  pressure  is  removed  from 
any  part,  by  the  air-pump  or  cupping-glass. 

The  foregoing  observations,  however,  as  was  above  re- 
marked, are  not  confined  to  arguments  from  testimony,  but 
apply  to  all  cases  in  which  the  degree  of  probability  is  esti- 
mated from  a  calculation  of  chances. 

For  some  further  remarks  on  this  subject  the  reader  is  re- 
ferred to  §  17  of  the  Treatise  on  Fallacies,*  where  the  "Fal- 
lacy of  Objections''  is  discussed. 

It  is  most  important  to  keep  in  mind  the  self-evident  but 
often-forgotten  maxim  that  disbelief  is  belief; 
only,  they  have  reference  to  opposite  conclusions,  i^'^gj^^'^-''"^' 
E.  g.  :  To  disbelieve  the  real  existence  of  the  ^  living. 
city  of  Troy,  is  to  believe  that  it  was  feigned;  and  which  P 
conclusion  implies  the  greater  credulity,  is  the-  question  to  be 
decided.  To  some  it  may  appear  more,  to  others  less,  pro- 
bable, that  a  Greek  poet  should  have  celebrated  (with  what- 
ever exaggerations)  some  of  the  feats  of  arms  in  which  his 
countrymen  had  actually  been  engaged,  than  that  he  should 
have  passed  by  all  these,  and  resorted  to  such  as  were  wholly 
imaginary. 

So  also,  though  the  terms  "infidel"  and  "^*?^believer'^  are 
commonly  applied  to  one  who  rejects  Christianity,  it  is  plain 
that  to  (7i.sbelieye  its  Divine  origin  is  to  believe  its  human 
origin ;  and  which  belief  requires  the  more  credulous  mind, 
is  the  very  question  at  issue. 

*  Logic,  Book  III. 


82  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

.  The  proper  opposite  to  belief  is  either  conscious  ignorance, 
or  douht.  And  even  doubt  may  sometimes 
doubt^op-^  °^  amount  to  a  kind  of  belief;  since  deliberate  and 
posed  to  be-  confirmed  doubt,  on  a  question  that  one  has  at- 
tended tOj  implies  a  "verdict  of  not  proven" — a 
Jjelief  that  there  is  not  sufficient  evidence  to  determine  either 
one  way  or  the  other.  And  in  some  cases  this  conclusion 
would  be  accounted  a  mark  of  excessive  credulity.  A  man 
who  should  doubt  whether  there  is  such  a  city  as  Rome, 
would  imply  his  belief  in  (what  most  would  account  a  moral 
impossibility)  the  possihilitT/  of  such  multitudes  of  independ- 
ent witnesses  having  concurred  in  a  fabrication. 

It  is  worth  remarking,  that  many  persons  are  of  such  a 
disposition  as  to  be  nearly  incapable  of  7'emain- 
doubtdifficuit  i^^ff  ^^  doubt  on  any  point  that  is  not  wholly  un- 
to some  per-  interesting  to  them.  They  speedily  make  up 
their  minds  on  each  question,  and  come  to  some 
conclusion,  whether  there  are  any  good  grounds  for  it  or  not. 
And  judging — as  men  are  apt  to  do  in  all  matters — of  others 
from  themselves,  they  usually  discredit  the  most  solemn 
assurances  of  any  one  who  professes  to  be  in  a  state  of  doubt 
on  some  question;  taking  for  granted  that  if  you  do  not 
adopt  their  opinion,  you  must  be  of  the  opposite. 

Others  again  there  are,  who  are  capable  of  remaining  in 
doubt  as  long  as  the  reasons  on  each  side  seem  exactly  hal- 
anced;  but  not  otherwise.  Such  a  person,  as  soon  as  he 
perceives  any — the  smallest — preponderance  of  probability 
on  one  side  of  a  question,  can  no  more  refrain  from  deciding 
immediately,  and  with  full  conviction,  on  that  side,  than  he 
could  continue  to  stand,  after  having  lost  his  equilibrium,  in 
a  slanting  position,  like  the  famous  tower  at  Pisa.  And  he 
will  accordingly  be  disposed  to  consider  an  acknowledgment 
that  there  are  somewhat  the  stronger  reasons  on  one  side,  as 
equivalent  to  a  confident  decision. 

The  tendency  to  such  an  error  is  the  greater,  from  the 
circumstance  that  there  are  so  many  cases,  in  practice,  wherein 
it  is  essentially  necessary  to  come  to  a  practical  decision,  even 
where  there  are  no  sufficient  grounds  for  feeling  fidlij  con- 
vinced that  it  is  the  right  one.  A  traveller  may  be  in  doubt, 
and  may  have  no  means  of  deciding  with  just  confidence, 
which  of  two  roads  he^ught  to  take ;  while  yet  he  must,  at 


CH.  II.,  §  6.]  CONVICTION.  83 

a  venture,  take  one  of  tliem.  And  the  like  happens  in  num- 
berless transactions  of  ordinary  life,  in  which  wc  are  obliged 
practically  to  make  up  our  minds  at  once  to  take  one  course 
or  another,  even  where  there  are  no  sufficient  grounds  for  a 
full  conviction  of  the  understanding. 

The  infirmities  above  mentioned  are  those  of  ordinary 
minds.  A  smaller  number  of  persons,  among  ^^  igjondiffi- 
wliom,  however,  arc  to  be  found  a  larger  proper-  cuittosome 
tion  of  the  intelligent,  are  prone  to  the  opposite  '^•"*^^- 
extreme :  that  of  not  deciding,  as  long  as  there  are  reasons 
to  be  found  on  both  sides,  even  though  there  may  be  a  clear 
and  strong  preponderance  on  the  one,  and  even  though  the 
case  may  be  such  as  to  call  for  a  practical  decision.  As  the 
one  description  of  men. rush  hastily  to  a  conclusion,  and 
trouble  themselves  little  about  premises,  so  the  other  care- 
fully examine  premises,  and  care  too  little  for  conclusions. 
The  one  decide  without  inquiring,  the  other  inquire  without 
deciding;. 


*&• 


/  §6. 


Before  I  dismiss  the  consideration  of  signs,  it  may  be  worth 
while  to  notice  another  case  of  combined  argu- 
ment different  from  the  one  lately  mentioned,  yet  Hppfoach^*' 
in  some  degree  resembling  it.  The  combination 
just  spoken  of  is  where  several  testimonies  or  other  signs, 
singly  perhaps  of  little  weight,  produce  jointly,  and  by  their 
coincidence,  a  degree  of  probability  fjir  exceeding  the  sum 
of  their  several  forces,  taken  separately :  in  the  case  I  am 
now  about  to  notice,  the  combined  force  of  the  series  of  argu- 
ments results  from  the  order  in  which  they  are  considered, 
and  from  their  progressive  tendency  to  establish  a  certain 
conclusion.  E.  g.  :  One  part  of  the  law  of  nature  called  the 
^^vis  iiiertice^'  is  established  by  the  argument  alluded  to  :  viz., 
that  a  body  set  in  motion  will  eternally  continue  in  motion 
with  uniform  velocity  in  a  right  line,  so  far  as  it  is  not  acted 
upon  by  any  causes  which  retard  or  stop,  accelerate  or  divert, 
its  course.  Now,  as  in  every  case  which  can  come  under 
our  observation  some  such  causes  do  intervene,  the  assumed 
supposition  is  practically  impossible,  and  we  have  no  oppor- 
tunity of  verifying  the  law  by  direct  experiment;  but  we 
may  cjradually  ajyproach  indefinitely  near  to  the  case  sup- 


84  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

posed ;  and  on  the  result  of  such  experiments  our  conclusion 
is  founded.  We  find  that  when  a  body  is  projected  along  a 
rough  surface,  its  motion  is  speedily  retarded  and  soon 
stopped ;  if  along  a  smoother  surface,  it  continues  longer  in 
motion ;  if  upon  ice,  longer  still ;  and  the  like  with  regard 
to  wheels,  etc.,  in  proportion  as  we  gradually  lessen  the  fric- 
tion of  the  machinery ;  and  if  we  remove  th^  resistance  of 
the  air,  by  setting  a  wheel  or  pendulum  in  motion  under  an 
exhausted  receiver,  the  motion  is  still  longer  continued. 
Finding,  then,  that  the  effect  of  the  original  impulse  is  more 
and  more  protracted,  in  proportion  as  we  more  and  more  re- 
move the  impediments  to  motion  from  friction  and  resistance 
of  the  air,  we  reasonably  conclude  that  if  this  could  be  com- 
jilctojy  done,  (which  is  out  of  our  power,)  the  motion  would 
never  cease,  since  what  appear  to  be  the  only  causes  of  its 
cessation  would  be  absent.* 

Again,  in  arguing  for  the  existence  and  moral  attributes  of 
Progressive  ^^  Deity  from  the  authority  of  men's  opinions, 
arfjumentfor    p'l'eat   usc   may  be  made  of  a  like  pro2;ressive 

t'ilO  06111*^  9,11(1  J.         o 

attributes  of  courso  of  argument,  though  it  has  been  often 
^'^^'  overlooked.     Some  have  argued  for  the  being  of 

a  Grod  from  the  universal,  or  at  least  general,  consent  of  man- 
kind )  and  some  have  appealed  to  the  opinions  of  the  wisest 
and  most  cultivated  portion,  respecting  both  the  existence 
and  the  moral  excellence  of  the  Deity.  It  cannot  be  denied 
that  there  is  a  presumptive  force  in  each  of  these  arguments; 
but  it  may  be  answered,  that  it  is  conceivable,  an  opinion 
common  to  almost  all  the  species  may  possibly  be  an  error  re- 
sulting from  a  constitutional  infirmityof  the  human  intellect  j-j* 
that  if  we  are  to  acquiiesce  in  the  belief  of  the  majority,  we 
shall  be  led  to  Polytheism,  such  being  the  creed  of  the 
greater  part;  and  that  though  more  weight  may  reasonably 
be  attached  to  the  opinions  of  the  wisest  and  best-instructed, 
still,  as  we  know  that  such  men  are  not  exempt  from  error, 
we  cannot  be  perfectly  safe  in  adopting  the  belief  they  hold, 
unless  they  are  convinced  that  they  hold  it  in  consequence  of 
their  being  the  wisest  and  best-instructed — so  far  forth  as 

^'  See  the  argument  in  Butlei*'s  Analogy  to  prove  the  advantage 
which  virtue,  if  perfect,  might  be  expected  to  obtain, 
t  One  of  Bacon's  "Idola  Tribus." 


CH.  II.,  §  6.]  CONVICTION.  85 

they  are  such.  Now  this  is  precisely  the  point  which  may 
be  established  by  the  above-mentioned  progressive  argument. 
Nations  of  Atheists,  if  there  are  any  such,  are  confessedly 
among  the  rudest  and  most  ignorant  savages  :  those  who  re- 
present their  god  or  gods  as  malevolent,  capricious,  or  subject 
to  human  passions  and  vices,  are  invariably  to  be  found  (in 
the  present  day  at  least)  among  those  who  are  brutal  and  un- 
civilized ;  and  among  the  most  civilized  nations  of  the  an- 
cients, who  professed  a  sihiilar  creed,  the  more  enlightened 
members  of  society  seem  either  to  have  rejected  altogether, 
or  to  have  explained  away,  the  popular  belief.  The  Moham- 
medan nations,  again,  of  the  present  day,  who  are  certainly 
more  advanced  in  civilization  than  their  Paoran  neiijhbors, 
maintain  the  unity  and  the  moral  excellence  of  the  Deity ; 
but  the  nations  of  Christendom,  whose  notions  of  the  Divine 
goodness  are  more  exalted,  are  undeniably  the  most  civilized 
part  of  the  world,  and  possess,  generally  speaking,  the  most 
cultivated  and  improved  intellectual  powers.  Now  if  we 
would  ascertain,  and  appeal  to,  the  sentiments  of  man  as  a 
rational  being,  we  must  surely  look  to  those  which  not  only 
prevail  most  among  the  most  rational  and  cultivated,  but 
towards  which  also  a  2)roffressive  tendency  is  found  in  men  in 
proiwrtion  to  their  degrees  of  rationality  and  cultivation. 
It  would  be  most  extravagant  to  suppose  that  man's  advance 
towards  a  more  improved  and  exalted  state  of  existence  should 
tend  to  obliterate  true  and  instil  false  notions.  On  the  con- 
trary, we  are  authorized  to  conclude  that  those  notions  would 
be  the  most  correct  which  men  would  entertain  whose  know- 
ledge, intelligence,  and  intellectual  cultivation  should  have 
reached  comparatively  the  highest  pitch  of  perfection  ]  and 
that  those  consequently  will  approach  the  nearest  to  the  truth 
which  are  entertained,  more  or  less,  by  various  nations,  in 
jprojwrtion  as  they  have  advanced  towards  this  civilized  state. 

Again,  "  if  we  inquire  what  is  the  lesson  that  Scripture  is 
calculated  to  convey  to  mankind,  we  should  look  „ 
not  to  the  conclusions  adopted  by  the  majority  of  ari^ument  for 
mankind,  but  to  the  conclusions  towards  which  tolerance. 
there  has  been  more  or  less  teiuIcncT/,  in  proportion  as  men 
have  been  more  or  less  attentive,  intelligent,  and  candid 
searchers  into  Scripture. 

^'  Before  the  gospel  appeared,  we  find  all  legislators  and 


86  ELEMENTS   OE  RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

philosophers  agreed  in  regarding  ^  human  good  universally' 
as  coming  under  the  cognizance  of  the  civil  magistrate  ;  who 
accordingly  was  to  have  a  complete  control  over  the  moral 
and  religious  conduct  of  the  citizens. 

"  We  find  again  that,  when  the  Scriptures  were  wholly  un- 
read by  all  but  one  in  ten  thousand  of  professed  Christians, 
the  duty  of  rulers  to  wage  war  against  infidels  and  to  extir- 
pate heretics  was  undisputed. 

"  When  the  Scriptures  began  to  be  a  popular  study,  but 
were  studied  crudely  and  rashly,  and  when  men  were  dazzled 
by  being  brought  suddenly  from  darkness  into  light,  intoler- 
ant principles  did  indeed  still  prevail,  but  some  notions  of 
religious  liberty  began  to  appear.  As,  towards  the  close  of  a 
rigorous  winter,  the  earliest  trees  begin  to  open  their  buds,  so,  a 
few  distinguished  characters  begun  to  breS-k  the  icy  fetters 
of  bigotry,  and  principles  of  tolerance  were  gradually  developed. 

^'As  the  study,  and  the  intelligent  study,  of  Scripture  ex- 
tended, in  the  same  degree,  the  opening  bud,  as  it  were,  made 
continually  further  advances.  In  every  age  and  country,  as 
a  general  rule,  tolerant  principles  have  (however  imperfectly) 
gained  ground  wherever  scriptural  knowledge  has  gained 
ground.  And  a  presumption  is  thus  aflforded  that  a  still  fur- 
ther advance  of  the  one  would  lead  to  a  corresponding  ad- 
vance in  the  other."* 

Many  other  instances  might  be  adduced  in  which  truths  of 
the  highest  importance  may  be  elicited  by  this  jDrocess  of  ar- 
gumentation )  which  will  enable  us  to  decide  with  suflicient 
probability  what  consequence  would  follow  from  an  hypothe- 
sis which  we  have  never  experienced.  It  might,  not  impro- 
perly, be  termed  the  argument  from  progressive  approach. 

§7. 

The  third  kind  of  arguments  to  be  considered,  (being  the 
E    m  1  other  branch  of  the  second  of  the  two  classes 

originally  laid  down,  see  §  3,)  may  be  treated  of 
under  the  general  name  of  example  ;  taking  that  term  in 
its  widest  acceptation,  so  as  to  comprehend  the  arguments 
designated  by  the  various  names  of  induction,  experience, 
analogy,  parity  of  reasoning,  etc.,  all  of  which  are  essentially 

*  See  Essays  on  the  Kingdom  of  Christ,  Note  A,  Appendix. 


CH.  II.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  gy 

the  same  as  far  as  regards  the  fundamental  principles  lam 
here  treating  of.     For  in  all  the  arguments  designated  by 
these  names,  1    will  be  found  that  we  consider  one  or  more 
known,  individual  objects  or  instances,  of  a  certain  class,  as 
a  tair  sample,  in  respect  of  some  point  or  other,  of  that  class- 
and  conscquentlj  draw  an   inference  from  them  respecting 
either  the  whole  class,  or  other,  less  known,  individuals  of  it"" 
In  arguments  of  this  kind,*  then,  it  will  be  found  that 
iiniversallj,  we  assume  as  a  major  premiss  that  what  is  true 
(in  regard  to  the    point  in  question)  of  the  individual  or 
individuals  which  we  bring  forward  and  appeal  to,  is  true 
of  the  whole  class  to  which  they  belong;  the  minor  premiss 
iiext  asserts  something  of  that  individual;    and    the   same 
IS  then  inferred  respecting  the  whole  class;  whether  we  stop 
at  that  general  conclusion,  or  descend  from  thence  to  another 

!!r,^']r"'irlT;'^'''^^  '''^^''^  ^'""'^  case,  which  is  the  most 
usua  ly  ca  led  the  argument  from  example,  we  generally  omit, 
for  the  sake  of  brevity,  the  intermediate  step,  and  pass  at 
once,  in  the  expression  of  the  argument,  from  the  known  to 
the  unknown  individual.  This  ellipsis,  however,  does  not, 
as  some  seem  to  suppose,  make  any  essential  difference  in  the 
mode  of  reasoning;  the  reference  to  a  common  class  beino- 
always,  in  such  a  case,  understood,  though  not  expressed;  fo? 
It  IS  evident  that  there  can  be  no  reasoning  from  one  indivi- 
dual to  another,  unless  they  come  under  some  common  genus, 
and  are  considered  in  that  point  of  view  •+  e   o-  •        * 

"Astronomy  was  decried  at  I      -  Geology  islikely  to  be  de- 
Its  first  introduction,  as  ad-     cried,''  etc. 


verse  to  religion  :" 


'"V  J^'^'*'^ 


siz'e  whh  O^fs';^'  ^^\'v>  S  ^  ^'     ^^  ^^^  ^«^  ^^^ition,  uniform  in 
prTnel  lesS^^^  explanations  have  been  given  of  the 

^II^Mm""^!^!  'T'^^  been  controverted,  I  have  introduce.! 


88  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   T. 

This  kind  of  example,  therefore,  appears  to  be  a  compound 
argument,  consisting  of  two  enthymemes;  and  when  (as 
often  happens)  we  infer  from  a  known  effect  a  certain  cause, 
and  again,  from  that  cause,  another  unknown  effect,  we  then 
unite  in  this  example  the  argument  from  effect  to  cause,  and 
that  from  cause  to  effect.  E.  g. :  We  may,  from  the  marks 
of  Divine  benevolence  in  this  world,  argue  that  "  the  like 
will  be  shown  in  the  next^'^  through  the  intermediate  con- 
clusion that  ''God  is  benevolent."  This  is  not  indeed  always 
the  case;  but  there  seems  to  be  in  every  example  a  reference 
to  some  cause,  though  that  cause  may  frequently  be  unknown ; 
e.  g.,  we  suppose,  in  the  instance  above  given,  that  there  is 
some  cause,  though  we  may  be  at  a  loss  to  assign  it,  which 
leads  men  generally  to  decry  a  new  science. 
-   ,    ,.  The  term  "  induction'^  is  commonly  applied  to 

Inductian.  ,  ,  i  i  7 

such  arguments  as  stop  short  at  the  general  con- 
clusion; and  is  thus  contradistinguished,  in  common  use, 
from  example.  There  is  also  this  additional  difference,  that 
when  we  draw  a  general  conclusion  from  several  individual 
cases,  we  use  the  word  induction  in  the  singular  number; 
while  each  one  of  these  cases,  if  the  application  were  made 
to  another  individual,  would  be  called  a  distinct  example. 
This  difference,  however,  is  not  essential ;  since  whether  the 
inference  be  made  from  one  instance  or  from  several,  it  is 
equally  called  an  induction,  if  a  general  conclusion  be  legiti- 
mately 'drawn. 

And  this  is  to  be  determined  by  the  nature  of  the  subject- 
matter.  In  the  investigation  of  the  laws  of  matter,  a  single 
experiment,  fairly  and  carefully  made,  is  usually  allowed  to 
be  conclusive ;  because  we  can  then  pretty  nearly  ascertain 
all  the  circumstances  operating.  A  chemist  who  had  ascer- 
tained, in  a  single  specimen  of  gold,  its  capability  of  combin- 
ing with  mercury,  would  not  think  it  necessary  to  try  the 
same  experiment  with  several  other  specimens,  but  would 
draw  the  conclusion  concerning  those  metals,  universally,  and 
with  certainty.  In  human  affairs,  on  the  contrary,  our  un- 
certainty respecting  many  of  the  circumstances  that  may 
affect  the  result,  obliges  us  to  collect  many  coinciding  in- 
stances to  warrant  even  a  probable  conclusion.  From  one  in- 
stance, e.  g.,  of  the  assassination  of  a  usurper^  it  would  npt 


CH.  11.,  §  7.1  CONVICTION.  89 

be  allowable  to  infer  the  certainty,  or  even  the  probability,  of 
a  like  fate  attending  all  usurpers.* 

Experience,  in  its  original  and  proper  sense,  is  applicable 
to  the  premises  from  which  we  argue,  not  to  the 
inference  we  draw.  Strictly  speaking,  we  know  ^penence. 
h?/  experience  only  the  past,  and  what  has  passed  under  our 
own  observation  :  thus,  we  know  by  experience  that  the  tides 
have  daily  ebbed  and  flowed,  during  such  a  time ;  and,  from 
the  testimony  of  others  as  to  their  own  experience,  that  the 
tides  have  formerly  done  so;  and  /ro77i  this  experience,  we 
conclude,  bi/  induction,  that  the  same  phenomenon  will  con- 
tinue, f 

"  Men  are  so  formed  as  (often  unconsciously),  to  reason, 
whether  well  or  ill,  on  the  phenomena  they  observe,  and  to 
mix  up  their  inferences  with  their  statements  of  those  phe- 
nomena, so  as  in  fact  to  theorize  (however  scantily  and 
crudely)  without  knowing  it.  If  you  will  be  at  the  pains 
carefully  to  analyze  the  simplest  descriptions  you  hear  of  any 
transaction  or  state  of  things,  you  will  find  that  the  process 
which  almost  invariably  takes  place  is,  in  logical  language, 
this :  that  each  individual  has  in  his  mind  certain  major 
premises  or  principles,  relative  to  the  subject  in  question; 
that  observation  of  what  actually  presents  itself  to  the  senses 
supplies  minor  premises  ;  and  that  the  statement  given  (and 
which  is  reported  as  a  thing  experienced^  consists  in  fact  of 
the  conclusions  drawn  from  the  combinations  of  those  pre- 
mises.''J  E.  g. :  "A  farmer  or  a  gardener  will  tell  you  that 
he  *  knows  by  experience'  that  such  and  such  a  crop  succeeds 
best  if  sown  in  autumn,  and  such  a  crop  again,  if  sown  in 
spring.  And  in  most  instances  they  will  be  right ;  that  is, 
their  experience  will  have  led  them  to  right  conclusions.  But 
what  they  have  actually  known  hy  experience,  is  the  success 
or  the  failure  of  certain  individual  crops. 

'^And  it  is  remarkable  that  for  many  ages  all  farmers  and 
gardeners  without  exception  were  no  less  firmly  convinced — 
and  convinced  of  their  knowing  it  by  experience — that  the 

^  See  Logic,  "  On  the  Province  of  Reasoning." 
f  See  the  article  "Experience"  in  the  Appendix  to  the  Treatise  on 
Logic. 

X  Political  Economy,  Lect.  IIL 


90  ELEMENTS   Or   RHETORIC.  [PART   I, 

crops  would  never  turn  out  good  unless  the  seed  were  sown 
during  the  increase  of  the  moo7i :  a  belief  wliich  is  now  com- 
pletely exploded,  except  in  some  remote  and  unenlightened 
districts/^* 

"Hence  it  is  that  several  different  men,  who  have  all  had 
equalj  or  even  the  very  same,  experience — i.  e.,  have 
been  witnesses  or  agents  in  the  same  transactions — will  often 
be  found  to  resemble  so  many  different  men  looking  at  the 
same  book :  one  perhaps,  though  he  distinctly  sees  black 
marks  on  white  paper,  has  never  learned  his  letters ;  another 
can  read,  but  is  a  stranger  to  the  language  in  which  the  book 
is  written ;  another  has  an  acquaintance  with  the  language, 
but  understands  it  imperfectly  j  another  is  familiar  with  the 
language,  but  is  a  stranger  to  the  subject  of  the  book,  and 
wants  power,  or  previous  instruction,  to  enable  him  fully  to 
take  in  the  author's  drift;  while  another,  again,  perfectly 
comprehends  the  whole. 

"The  object  that  strikes  the  eye  is  to  all  of  these  persons 
the  same :  the  difference  of  the  impressions  produced  on  the 
mind  of  each  is  referable  to  the  differences  in  their  minds. 

"And  this  explains  the  fact,  that  we  find  so  much  discrep- 
ancy in  the  results  of  what  are  called  experience  and  com- 
mon sense,  as  contradistinguished  from  theory.  In  former 
times,  men  knew  by  experience  that  the  earth  stands  still, 
and  the  sun  rises  and  sets.  Common  sense  taught  them  that 
there  could  be  no  antipodes,  since  men  could  not  stand  with 
their  heads  downwards,  like  flies  on  the  ceiling.  Experience 
tauo;ht  the  Kins;  of  Bantam  that  water  could  not  become 
solid.  And  (to  come  to  the  consideration  of  human  affairs) 
the  experience  and  common  sense  of  one  of  the  most  observ- 
ant and  intelligent  of  historians,  Tacitus,  convinced  him,  that 
for  a  mixed  government  to  be  so  framed  as  to  combine  the 
elements  of  royalty,  aristocracy,  and  democracy,  must  be  next 
to  impossible,  and  that  if  such  a  one  could  be  framed,  it  must 
inevitably  be  very  speedily  dissolved.''')' 

The  word  analogy,  again,  is  generally  employed 

in  the  case  of  arguments  in  which  the  instance 

adduced  is  somewhat  more  remote  from  that  to  which  it  is 


*  Lessons  on  Reasoning. 

f  PoHtical  Economy,  Lect.  III.,  pp.  69-71. 


CH.  II.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  91 

applied.  E.  g. :  A  physician  would  be  said  to  know  by  ex- 
'perience  the  noxious  effect  of  a  certain  drug  on  the  human 
constitution,  if  he  had  frequently  seen  men  poisoned  by  it ; 
but  if  he  thence  conjectured  that  it  would  be  noxious  to  some 
other  species  of  animal,  h-e  would  be  said  to  reason  from 
analogy ;  the  only  difference  being  that  the  resemblance  is 
less  between  a  man  and  a  brute  than  between  one  man  and 
another ;  and  accordingly  it  is  found  that  many  brutes  arc 
not  acted  upon  by  some  .drugs  which  are  pernicious  to 
man. 

But  more  strictly  speaking,  analogy  ought  to  be  distin- 
guished from  direct  resemblance,  with  which  it  is  often  con- 
founded, in  the  language  even  of  eminent  writers  (especially 
on  Chemistry  and  Natural  History)  in  the  present  day.  An- 
alogy being  a  "resemblance  of  ratios,'^*  that  should  strictly 
be  called  an  argument  from  analogy  in  which  the  two  things 
(viz.,  the  one  from  which,  and  the  one  to  which,  we  argue) 
are  not,  necessarily,  themselves  alike,  but  stand  in  similar 
relations  to  some  other  things ',  or,  in  other  words,  that  the 
common  geims  which  they  both  fall  under  consists  in  a  rela- 
tion. Thus  an  egg  and  a  seed  are  not  in  themselves  alike, 
but  bear  a  like  relation,  to  the  parent  bird  and  to  her  future 
nestling,  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  the  old  and  young  plant  on 
the  other,  respectively ;  this  relation  being  the  genus  which 
both  fall  under ;  and  many  arguments  might  be  drawn  from 
this  analogy.  Again,  the  fact  that  from  birth  different  per- 
sons have  different  bodily  constitutions,  in  respect  of  com- 
plexion, stature,  strength,  shape,  liability  to  particular  dis- 
orders, etc.,  which  constitutions,  however,  are  capable  of  being, 
to  a  certain  degree,  modified  by  regimen,  medicine,  etc., 
affords  an  analogy  by  which  we  may  form  a  presumption  that 
the  like  takes  place  in  respect  of  mental  qualities  also  j  though 
it  is  plain  that  there  can  be  no  direct  resemblance  either  be- 
tween body  and  mind,  or  their  respective  attributes. 

In  this  kind  of  argument,  one  error,  which  is  very  common, 
and  which  is  to  be  sedulously  avoided,  is  that  of       EiTors  re- 
concluding  the  things  in  question  to  be  alike,  be-        specting 
cause  they  are  analogous — to  resemble  each  other        ^"^  ^^^' 
in  themselves,  because  there  is  a  resemblance  in  the  relation 

*  Aoytov  d/xoioTijg.    Aristotle. 


92  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

they  bear  to  certain  otlier  things ;  which  is  manifestly  a 
groundless  inference. 

Sometimes  the  mistake  is  made  of  supposing  this  direct 
resemblance  to  exist,  when  it  does  not ;  sometimes  of  suppos- 
ing, or  sophistically  representing^^  that  such  resemblance  is 
asserted,  when  no  such  thing  was  intended.  One  may  often 
hear  a  person  reproached  with  having  compared  such  and 
such  a  person  or  thing  to  this  or  that,  and  with  having  in  so 
doing  introduced  a  most  unjust,  absurd,  and  indecorous  com- 
parison; when,  in  truth,  the  object  in  question  had  not  been, 
properly  speaking,  compared  to  any  of  these  things,  an  an- 
alogy only  having  been  asserted.  And  it  is  curious  that 
many  persons  are  guilty  of  this  mistake  or  misrepresentation 
who  are,  or  ought  to  be,  familiar  with  the  Scripture  parables; 
in  which  the  words  ^'compare"  and  "liken"  are  often  intro- 
duced, where  it  is  evident  that  there  could  have  been  no 
thought  of  any  direct  resemblance.  A  child  of  ten  years  old 
would  hardly  be  guilty  of  such  a  blunder  as  to  suppose  that 
members  of  the  Church  are  literally  "like"  plants  of  corn, 
sheep,  fish  caught  in  a  net,  and  fruit  trees. 

Another  caution  is  applicable  to  the  whole  class  of  argu- 
ments from  example ;  viz.,  not  to  consider  the  resemblance 
or  analogy  to  extend  farther  (i.  e.,  to  more  particulars)  than 
it  does.  The  resemblance  of  a  picture  to  the  object  it  repre- 
sents is  direct ;  but  it  extends  no  farther  than  the  one  sense, 
of  seeing,. is>  concerned.  In  the  parable  of  the  unjust  steward, 
an  argument  is  drawn  from  analogy,  to  recommend  prudence 
and  foresight  to  Christians  in  spiritual  concerns ;  but  it  would 
be  absurd  to  conclude  that  fraud  was  recommended  to  our 
imitation ;  and  yet  mistakes  very  similar  to  such  a  perversion 
of  that  argument  are  by  no  means  rare. 

"Thus,  because  a  just  analogy  has  been  discerned  between 
the  metropolis  of  a  country  and  the  heart  of  the  animal  body, 
it  has  been  sometimes  contended  that  its  increased  size  is  a 
disease — that  it  may  impede  some  of  its  most  important  func- 
tions, or  even  be  the  cause  of  its  dissolution."* 

*  See  Copleston's  Inquiry  into  the  Doctrines  of  Necessity  and  Predes- 
tination, note  to  Disc.  III.,  Q.  V.,  for  a  very  able  dissertation  on  the 
subject  of  Analogy,  in  the  course  of  an  analysis  of  Dr.  King's  Dis- 
course on  Fredestination.  (See  Appendix  [E].)  In  the  preface  to  the 
last  edition  of  that  Discourse,  I  have  offered  some  additional  remarks 


CH.  II.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  •    93 

Against  both  tliese  mistakes  our  Lord's  parables. are  guarded 
in  two  ways  :  1st.  He  selects,  in  several  of  them, 
images  the  most  remote  possible  from  the  thing     SahSuhe^ 
to  be  illustrated,  in  almost  every  point  except     afeovemis- 
the  one  that  is  essential ;  as  in  the  parable  re- 
ferred to  just  above,  in  that  of  the  unjust  judge  and  impor- 
tunate widow,  etc.     2dly.  He   employs  a  great  variety  of 
images  in  illustrating  each  single  point;  c.  g.,  a  field  of  corn, 
a  net  cast  into  the  sea,  a  grain  of  mustard-seed,  a  lump  of 
leaven,  a  feast,  a  treasure  hidden  in  a  field,  etc.     I'or  as  the 
thing  to  be  illustrated  cannot  have  a  direct  resemblance  or  a 
complete  analogy  to  all  these   different  things,  we  are  thus 
guarded  against  taking  for  granted  that  this  is  the  case  with 
any  one  of  them. 

It  may  be  added,  that  the  variety,  and  also  the  extreme 
commonness  of  the  images  introduced,  serve  as  a  help  to  the 
memory,  by  creating  a  multitude  of  associations.  Our  Lord 
has  inscribed,  as  it  were,  his  lessons  on  almost  every  object 
around  us. 

And,  moreover,  men  are  thus  guarded  against  the  mistake 
they  are  so  prone  to,  and  which,  even  as  it  is,  they  are  con- 
tinually falling  into,  of  laying  aside  their  common  sense  alto- 
gether in  judging  of  any  matter  connected  with  religion ;  as 
if  the  rules  of  reasoning  which  they  employ  in  temporal  mat- 
ters were  quite  unfit  to  be  applied  in  spiritual. 

It  may  be  added,  that  illustrations  drawn  from  things  con- 
siderably remote  from  what  is  to  be  illustrated  will  often  have 
the  efi"ect  of  an  ^'  d  fortiori'  argument :  as  in  some  of  the 
parables  just  alluded  to,  and  in  that  where  Jesus  says,  ''If  ye 
then,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  to  your  children, 
liow  much  morcj^  etc. 

So  also  in  the  Apostle  Paul's  illustration  from  the  Isthmian 
and  other  games :  ''Now  they  do  it  to  obtain  a  corruptible 
crown  ;  but  we  an  incorruptible. '^ 

Sound  judgment  and  vigilant  caution  are  no-  important  and 
where  more  called  for  than  in  observing  what  tmimportant 
differences   (perhaps   seemingly  small)   do,   and  SSffer"*^^^ 
what  do  not,  nullify  the  analogy  between  two  e^ces  of  eases. 

on  the  subject;  and  I  have  again  adverted  to  it  (chiefly  in  reply  to 
some  popular  objections  to  Dr.  King)  in  the  Dissertation  on  the  Pro- 
vince of  Reasoning,  subjoined  to  the  Elements  of  Logic,  Ch".  V.,  §  1. 


94  ELEMENTS   OE   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

cases.  And  the  same  may  be  said  in  regard  to  the  ap- 
plicability of  precedents,  or  acknowledged  decisions  of 
any  kind,  such  as  Scripture  precepts,  etc. )  all  of  which  in- 
deed are,  in  their  essence,  of  the  nature  of  example ;  since 
every  recorded  declaration,  or  injunction,  (of  admitted  au- 
thority,) may  be  regarded — in  connection  with  the  persons  to 
whom,  and  the  occasion  on  which,  it  was  delivered — as  a 
known  case;  from  which,  consequently,  we  may  reason  to 
any  other  farallel  case )  and  the  question  which  we  must  be 
careful  in  deciding  will  be,  to  whom,  and  to  what,  it  is  appli- 
cable. For,  as  I  have  said,  a  seemingly  small  circumstance 
will  often  destroy  the  analogy,  so  as  to  make  a  precedent — 
precept,  etc. — inapplicable ;  and  often,  on  the  other  hand, 
some  difference,  in  itself  important,  may  be  pointed  out  be- 
tween two  cases,  which  shall  not  at  all  weaken  the  analogy 
in  respect  of  the  argument  in  hand.  And  thus  there  is  a 
danger  both  of  being  misled  by  specious  arguments  of  this 
description,  which  have  no  real  force,  an(J  also  of  being  stag- 
gered by  plausible  objections  against  such  examples  or  ap- 
peals to  authority,  etc.,  as  are  perfectly  valid.  Hence  Aris- 
totle observes,  that  an  opponent,  if  he  cannot  show  that  the 
majority  of  instances  is  on  his  side,  or  that  those  adduced  by 
his  adversary  are  inapplicable,  contends  that  they,  at  any 
rate,  differ  in  something  from  the  case  in  question.* 

Many  are  misled,  in  each  way,  by  not  estimating  aright  the 

degree,  and  the  kind,  of  difference  between  two 

AiTpiicious     cases.     E.  g.  :  It  would  be  admitted  that  a  great 

metals  to         and   permanent  diminution   in   the  quantity  of 

other  com-  o  ^  t  ■  i  ^ 

modities,  some  useiul  commodity,  such  as  corn,  or  coal,  or 
imperfect  i^on,  throughout  the  world,  would  be  a  serioijs 
and  lasting  loss;  and,  again,  that  if  the  fields 
and  coal-mines  yielded  regularly  double  quantities,  with  the 
same  labor,  we  should  be  so  much  the  richer ;  hence  it  might 
be  inferred  that  if  the  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  in  the 
world  were  diminished  one-half,  or  were  doubled,  like  results 
would  follow;  the  utility  of  these  metals,  for  the  purposes 
of  coin,  being  very  great.  Now  there  are  many  points  of 
resemblance,  and  many  of  difference,  between  the  precious 
metals  on  the  one  hand,  and  corn,  coal,  etc.,  on  the  other; 

*  Am^opav  ye  riva  ex^i. — Rhet.,  Book  II.,  ch.  xxvii. 


cii.  ir.,  §  7.J  CONVICTION.  95 

but  the  important  circumstance  to  the  supposed  argument  is, 
that  the  utility  of  gold  and  silver  (as  coin,  which  is  far  the 
chief)  depends  on  their  value,  which  is  regulated  by  their 
scarcity,  or,  rather,  to  speak  strictly,  by  the  difficulty  of  ob- 
taining them ;  whereas,  if  corn  and  coal  were  ten  times  more 
abundant,  (i.  e.,  more  easily  obtained,)  a  bushel  of  either 
would  still  be  as  useful  as  now.  But  if  it  were  twice  as  easy 
to  procure  gold  as  it  is,  a  sovereign  would  be  twice  as  larjre ; 
if  only  half  as  easy,  it  would  be  of  the  size  of  a  half-so"ve- 
reign;  and  this  (besides  the  trifling  circumstance  of  the 
cheapness  or  dearness  of  gold  ornaments)  would  be  all  the 
difference.  The  analogy,  therefore,  fails  in  the  point  essen- 
tial to  the  argument. 

Again,  Mandeville's  celebrated  argument  against  educating 
the  laboring  classes,  "  If  a  horse  knew  as  much 
as  a  man,  1  would  not  be  his  rider/'  holds  trood  Mandeviiie's 
in  relerence  to  slaves,  or  subjects  of  a  tyranny; 
governed,  as  brutes, /or  the  benefit  of  a  master,  not  for  their 
own ;  but  it  wholly  fails  in  reference  to  men  possessing  civil 
rights.  If  a  horse  knew  as  much  as  a  man — i.  e.,  were  a  rational 
being — it  would  be  not  only  unsafe,  but  unjust,  to  treat  him 
as  a  brute.  But  a  government  that  is  for  the  benefit  of  the 
subject,  will  be  the  better  obeyed,  the  better  informed  the 
people  are  as  to  their  real  interests. 

Again,  the  Apostle  Paul  recommends  to  the  Corinthians 
celibacy  as  preferable  to  marriage ;  hence  some      p^^^j,^ 
religionists  have  inferred  that  this  holds  i^ood  in      preference. 
respect  of  all  Christians.     Now  in  many  most      howfor^'^' 
important  points.  Christians  of  the  present  day      applicable. 
•are  in  the  same  condition  as  the  Corinthians ;  but  they  were 
liable  to  plunder,  exile,  and  many  kinds  of  bitter  persecutions 
from  their  fellow-citizens ;  and  it  appears  that  this  was  the 
very  (/round  on  which  celibacy  was  recommended  to  them,  as 
exempting  them  from  many  afflictions  and  temptations  which 
in  such  troublous  times  a  family  would  entail ;  since,  as  Bacon 
observes,   '^He  that  hath  a  wife  and   children   hath  given 
pledges  to  fortune.''     Now,  it  is  not,  be  it  observed,  on  the 
intrinsic  importance  of  this  difference  between  them  and  us 
that  the  question  turns,  but  on  its  importance  in  reference 
to  the  advice  given. 

On  the  other  hand,  suppose  any  one  had,  at  the  opening 


96  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

of  the  Frencli  Kev(5lution,  or  at  any  similar  con- 
the  French  juncture,  expressed  apprehensions,  grounded  on 
toThose  of  ^  review  of  history,  of  the  danger  of  anarchy, 
ancient  bloodshcd,  destruction  of  social  order,  general 

reece,  corruption  of  morals,  and  the  long  train  of  hor- 

rors so  vividly  depicted  by  Thucydides  as  resulting  from  civil 
discord,  especially  in  his  account  of  the  sedition  at  Corcyra; 
it  might  have  been  answered,  that  the  example  does  not 
apply,  because  there  is  a  great  difference  between  the  G-reeks 
in  the  time  of  Thucydides,  and  the  nations  of  modern  Europe. 
Many  and  great,  no  doubt,  are  the  differences  that  might  be 
enumerated :  the  ancient  Grreeks  had  not  the  use  of  firearms, 
nor  of  the  mariner's  compass ;  they  were  strangers  to  the  art 
of  printing;  their  arts  of  war  and  of  navigation,  and  their 
literature,  were  materially  influenced"  by  these  differences; 
they  had  domestic  slaves ;  they  were  inferior  to  us  in  many 
manufactures;  they  excelled  us  in  sculpture,  etc.,  etc.  The 
historian  himself,  while  professing  to  leave  a  legacy  of  in- 
struction for  future  ages*  in  the  examples  of  the  past,  admits 
that  the  aspect  of  political  transactions  will  vary  from  time 
to  time  in  their  particular  forms  and  external  character,  as 
well  as  in  the  degrees  in  which  the  operation  of  each  principle 
will,  on  different  occasions,  be  displayed  ;"|"  but  he  contends, 
that  "  as  long  as  human  nature  remains  the  same,''  like  causes 
will  come  into  play,  and  produce,  substantially,  like  effects. 

In  Corcyra,  and  afterwards  in  other  of  the  Grecian  States, 
such  enormities,  he  says,  were  perpetrated  as  were  the  nat- 
ural result  of  pitiless  oppression,  and  inordinate  thirst  for 
revenge  on  the  oppressors;  of  a  craving  desire,  in  some,  to 
get  free  from  their  former  poverty,  and  still  more,  in  others,' 
to  gratify  their  avarice  by  unjust  spoliation;  and  of  the  re- 
moval of  legal  restraints  from  "the  natural  character  of  man," 
(jl  dvdpojnela  (pvoLg,)  which,  in  consequenc-e,  "eagerly  dis- 
played itself  as  too  weak  for  passion,  too  strong  for  justice, 
and  hostile  to  every  superior.' '|   Now  the  question  important 

*  Krrjfia  es  dei. 

f  TLyvofieva  ju,ev,  Koi  del  eaoixeva,  ew?  av  'H  AYTH  $Y2I2  av9p(aiT<av  fj,  fxaXXov  fie 

Kol  ^^crvxaiVepa,  Koi  tois  elSecrt,  ScriWayixeva,  co?  av,  etc.,  B.  III.,  §  82. 

X  'Ef  S'  ovv  rrj  KepKvpa  to,  ttoAAoI  avriav  TrpoeToKixrjOr],  koL  buoaa  v/Spet  fiev  apxoixevoi 
TO  TrAeov  r)  aw(ppo<rvvr),  vnh  ru>v  rrjv  Tijittoptai/  napacrxovTap  oi  apTapiVVOixevot.  Spdaeiau' 
vevLa<;  Se  ttj?  euoOvCa^  anaWa^eLOVTeg  'flveg,  ^akicrra  &'  av  8ia  iraOovs  eniOvixovvTe? 
TO.  TOiv  Tre'Aas  exeiv,  vapa  6i/cr)i/  yiyviacricoLiv'  ....  ^vvrapaxGevTOg  re  tov,  /3iov,  e? 
Toy  Ktttpbi'  TQVTOV,  Tfj  TToKu,  Kal  Ttov  j/ojawj/  /tpar^o'ao'a  r)  avOpianeCa  </)uc7't9,  eiw&vta  koL 


CH.  II.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  .  97 

to  the  argument  is,  Are  the  dififercnecs  between  the  ancient 
Greeks  and  modern  nations  of  such  a  character  as  to  make  . 
the  remarks  of  Thucydides,  and  the  examples  he  sets  before 
us,  inapplicable  ?  or  are  they  (as  he  seems  to  have  expected) 
merely  such  as  to  alter  the  external  shape  (eMo^)  of  the 
transactions  springing  from  similar  human  passions  ?  Surely 
no  mere  external  differences  in  customs,  or  in  the  arts  of  life, 
between  the  ancient  Greeks  and  the  French  (our  supposed 
disputant  might  have  urged)  can  produce  an  essential  and 
fundamental  difference  of  results  from  any  civil  commotion ; 
for  this,  some  new  vital  principle  of  action  must  be  introduced 
and  established  in  the  heart — something  capable  of  overrul- 
ing {(jivatg  dvOp(x)7TO)v)  man's  natural  character.  "As  long  as* 
this  remains  the  same,"  (t'cj^  i]  avrf]  ?},  as  the  historian  him- 
self remarks,)  substantially  the  same  results  may  be  lool^ed 
for. 

Again,  when  the  French  Revolution  did  break  out,  in  all 
its  horrors,  many  apprehended  that  the  infection 
would  spread  to  England.     iVnd  there  are  not  a   analogy  be- 
fcw  who  are  convinced  at  this  day,  that  but  for   *^^5*^'"  France 

.        .  .  p  .  ,  *' '  ,  and  England. 

the  interruption  or  intercourse  between  the  two 
countries  by  the  war,  and  the  adoption  of  certain  other  mea- 
sures, we  should  have  had  a  revolution,  and  one  accompanied 
by  nearly  equal  extravagancies  and  atrocities.  Now  the  just- 
ness of  this  inference  must  of  course  depend  on  the  correct- 
ness of  the  '^^  analogy,"  in  respect  of  the  points  most  im- 
portant to  the  question.  All  history  teaches  that  the  proha- 
hUlty  of  a  revolution,  and  also  the  violence  with  which  it  is 
conducted,  depend,  chiefly,  on  the  degree  in  which  a  people 
has  been  not  only  exasperated,  but  also  degraded  and  brutal- 
ized by  a  long  course  of  oppressive  misgovernment,  and 
partly  on  the  character  of  the  people  themselves  (whether 
arising  from  those  or  from  any  other  causes)  in  respect  of 
blind  and  precipitate  rashness,  gross  ignorance,  and  ferocity 
of  disposition.  In  proportion  as  these  causes  exist,  a  nation 
is  more  or  less  a  heap  of  combustibles  ready  to  catch  fire 
from  a  spark,  and  to  blaze  into  a  fierce  conflagration.  A 
small  number  of  persons  endeavored,  with  very  little  success, 
to  persuade  the   English   that  they  were    nearly  as   much 

TTapa  Tovs  v6ju.ovs  aZiKetv,  acr/u.e'i^  efirjAwCTei/  aKparrjs  ixlv  opyij?  o5cra,  Kpeia&oiv  ie  ToO 
StKaCov,  TToAe/aia  5e  toO  npovxovTO^. — Thucyd.,  Book  III.;  g  84. 


98  '  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

oppressed  as  the  French 'had  been;  and  the  French  were 
.  partly  so  far  persuaded  of  this,  that  they  labored  to  kindle 
among  us  a  conflagration,  from  their  own.  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  were  (and  still  are)  a  much  greater  number  who 
conceived  the  former  condition  of  the  French  people  to  be 
much  nearer  our  own  than  in  fact  it  was ;  who  were  to  a  great 
degree  unaware  of  the  full  extent  of  misgovernment  under 
which  that  country  had  long  suffered,  and  of  the  ignorant 
and  degraded-as  well  as  irritated  state  of  the  great  mass  of 
its  population ;  and  who  consequently  saw  no  reason  to  feel 
confidence  that  an  outbreak  nearly  resembling  that  in  France 
might  not  be  apprehended  here.* 


*  The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  very  able  article  in  the  Edin- 
hui-gh  Review,  (October,  1842,)  on  Alison's  Europe: 

*' We  do  not  comprehend  the  argument  which  attributes  the  crimes 
and  impieties  of  that  unhappy  time  to  the  demoralizing  effects  of  the 
Revolution  itself.  Sudden  anarchy  may  bring  evil  passions  and  infi- 
del opinions  to  light ;  but  we  do  not  understand  how  it  can  bring 
them  into  existence.  Men  do  not  insult  their  religion  and  massacre 
their  fellow -creatures,  simply  because  it  is  in  their  power.  The 
desire  to  do  so  must  j)reviously  exist,  and  in  France  we  have  every 
proof  that  it  did  exist.  We  might  give  innumerable  instances  of  the 
cruel  and  vindictive  temper  displayed  from  the  most  ancient  times 
by  the  lower  classes  in  France.  In  the  Jacquerie,  in  the  civil  wars 
of  the  Bourguignons  and  Armagnacs,  and  in  the  seditions  of  the 
'League  and  the  Fronde,  they  constantly  displayed  the  ferocity  natu- 
rally excited  by  slavery  and  oppression.  Their  scorn  for  Christi- 
anity, though  more  recently  acquired,  had  become,  long  before  the 
Revolution  of  1789,  as  inveterate  as  their  desire  for  revenge.  We 
shall  give,  in  Mr.  Alison's  own  words,  one  very  singular  proof  of  th^ 
extent  to  which  it  prevailed.  In  speaking  of  the  Egyptian  expedi- 
tion, he  says :  '  They  [the  French  sgldiers]  not  only  considered  the 
Christian  faith  as  an  entire  -fabrication,  but  were  for  the  most  part 
ignorant  of  its  very  elements.  Lavalette  has  recorded  that  hardly 
one  of  them  had  ever  been  in  a  church,  and  that  in  Palestine  they 
were  ignorant  even  of  the  name  of  the  holiest  places  in  sacred  his- 
tory,' (III.,  419.)  This  was  in  1799,  only  ten  years  after  the  first 
symptoms  of  popular  innovation.  Here,  then,  were  thirty  thousand 
full-grown  men,  collected  promiscuously  from  all  parts  of  France — 
many  of  them  well  educated,  and  all  of  sound  mind  and  body — who 
appear  to  have  felt  about  as  much  interest  in  the  religion  of  their 
ancestors  as  in  that  of  Brahma  or  Confucius.  And  yet  the  great 
majority  of  this  army  must  have  been  born  fifteen  or  twenty  years 
before  the  first  outbreak  of  the  Revolution ;  and  the  very  youngest 
of  them  must  have  passed  their  childhood  entirely  under  the  ancient 


OH,  II.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  '  99 

Again,  ^Hlie  argument  drawn  from  the  Babylonian  and 
other  ancient  states  having  employed  Jews  in      Anaioffvbe- 
civil  capacities,  without  finding  them  disloyal,  or      tween  the 
experiencing  any  disadvantage  from  their  national      ami  at^pre- 
attachraent,  or  their  peculiar  opinions  and  cus-      ^®^*- 
toms,  was  met  by  the  reply,  that  the  case  of  those  ancient 
Jews  is  not  parallel  to  that  of  the  Jews  in  the  present  day ; 
the  former  having  been  guilty  of  the  sin  of  rejecting  the 
Messiah,  but  being  professors  of  the  only  true  religion  then 
revealed. 

"  My  reason  for  saying  that  the  above  objection  is  irrele- 
vant, is  that  the  whole  question  turns  on  the  discrejianny 
likely  to  exist  between  the  Jews  and  those  of  another  reli- 
gion ;  and  that  modern  Judaism  is  not  more  hostile  to  Chris- 
tianity than  ancient  Judaism  was  to  heathen  idolatry.  The 
religious  opinions  and  observances  of  the  Jews,  in  the  days 
of  Daniel  for  instance,  do  not  appear  (it  has  been  urged) 
to  have  unfitted  them  for  the  civil  service  of  Babylonian  or 
Median  princes.  And  as  no  one  will  contend  that  Daniel, 
and  the  rest,  were  less  at  variance,  in  point  of  religion,  with 
the  idolatry  of  Babylon,  than  the  modern  Jews  are  with 
Christianity,  it  is  inferred  (and  surely  with  great  fairness) 
that  these  last  are  as  fit  for  civil  employments  under  Chris- 
tian princes  as  their  ancestors  under  Pagan. 

''If  the  question  were,  what  judgment  ought  to  be  formed 
in  a  religious  point  of  view,  of  the  ancient  and  of  the  modern 
Jews,  respectively,  we  should  of  course  take  into  account  the 
important  distinction  which  the  advent  of  Christ  places  be- 
tween the  two.  But  in  a  question  respecting  civil  rights  and 
disabilities,  this  distinction  is  nothing  to  the  purpose.  To 
allege  that  the  ancient  Jews  at  Babylon  professed  a  true  re- 
ligion in  the  midst  of  falsehood,  and  that  their  descendants 
adhere  to  an  erroneous  religion  in  the  midst  of  truth,  does 
not  impair  the  parallel  between  the  two  cases,  in  respect  of 
the  present  argument,  so  long  as  it  is  but  admitted  (which  no 
one  denies)  that  the  Jews  are  not  now  led^  by  their  religion, 

reghne.  There  cannot,  surely,  be  a  stronger  proof  that,  lonp;  before 
the  royal  authority  was  shaken,  the  great  mass  of  the  French  nation 
had  become  such  thorough  infidels,  as  to  be  almost  ignorant  of  the 
very  existence  of  Christianity." 


100  '  ELEMENTS    OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

to  entertain  a  greater  repugnance  for  Christianity  than  their 
ancestors  did  for  Paganism."* 

Again,  to  take  an  instance  from  another  class  of  political 
.     ,         -       affairs,  the  manufacture  of  beet-suo-ar  in  France, 

Analogy  of  •       ,       S        r»     •  ,  •  ^nr      ,     t     ^• 

states  to  indi-  instead  01  importing  West  Indian  suoar  at  a 
IjSo'f ques-  fo^i't^  of  the  price,  (and  to  the  English  corn- 
tionsofpoiiti-  laws  nearly  similar  reasons  will  apply,)  and  the 
economy.  pj^Qj^ij^j^^QQ^  \)j  i\^q  Americans,  of  British  manu- 
factures, in  order  to  encourage  home  production,  (i.  e.,  the 
manufacture  of  inferior  articles  at  a  much  higher  cost,)  etc., 
are  reprobated  as  unwise  by  some  politicians,  from  the  analogy 
of  what  takes  place  in  private  life ;  in  which  every  man  ef 
common  prudence  prefers  buying,  whenever  he  can  get  them 
cheapest  and  best,  many  commodities  which  he  could  make 
at  home,  but  of  inferior  quality,  and  at  a  greater  expense; 
and  confines  his  own  labor  to  that  department  in  which  he 
finds  he  can  labor  to  the  best  advantage.  To  this  it  is  re- 
plied, that  there  is  a  great  difference  between  a  nation  and 
an  individual.  And  so  there  is,  in  many  circumstances  :  a 
little  parcel  of  sugar  or  cloth  from  a  shop  is  considerably 
different  from  a  ship-load  of  either ;  and  again,  a'  nation  is 
an  object  more  important,  and  which  fills  the  mind  with  a 
grander  idea,  than  a  private  individual ',  it  is  also  a  more 
complex  and  artificial  being;  and  of  indefinite  duration  of 
existence ;  and,  moreover,  the  transactions  of  each  man,  as 
far  as  he  is  left  free,  are  regulated  by  the  very  person  who  is 
to-  be  a  gainer  or  loser  by  each — the  individual  himself;  who, 
though  his  vigilance  is  sharpened  by  interest,  and  his  judg- 
ment by  exercise  in  his  own  department,  may  yet  chance  to 
be  a  man  of  confined  education,  possessed  of  no  general  prin- 
ciples, and  not  pretending  to  be  versed  in  philosophical  the- 
ories ;  whereas  the  affairs  of  a  state  are  regulated  by  a  Con- 
gress, Chamber  of  Deputies,  etc.,  consisting  perhaps  of  men 
of  extensive  reading  and  speculative  minds.  Many  other 
striking  differences  might  be  enumerated;  but  the  question 
important  to  the  argument  is,  Does  the  expediency,  in  private 


*  ^-enaarks  on  the  Jewish  Relief  Bill,  volume  of  Charges,  etc.,  pp. 
454-457.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  very  persons  who  spoke  against 
me  on  that  occasion,  (1833,)  have  since  brought  forward  and  carried 
the  very  measure  I  then  advocated. 


CH.  II.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  101 

life,  of  obtaining  each  commodity  at  tlie  least  cost,  and  of  the 
best  quality  we  can,  depend  on  any  of  the  circumstances  in 
which  an  individual  differs  from  a  community  ? 

These  instances  may  suffice  to  illustrate  the  importance  of 
considering  attentively  in  each  case,  not  what  differences  or 
resemblances  are  intrinsically  the  greatest,  but  what  are  those 
that  do,  or  that  do  not,  affect  the  argument.  Those  wlio  do 
not  fix  their  minds  steadily  on  this  question,  when  arguments 
of  this  class  are  employed,  will  often  be  misled  in  their  own 
reasonings,  and  may  easily  be  deceived  by  a  skilful  sophist. 

In  fact,  it  may  be  said  almost  without  qualification,  that 
'^  Wisdom  consists  in  the  ready  and  accurate  perception  of 
analogies.'^  Without  the  former  quality,  knowledge  of  the 
past  is  nearly  uninstructive :  without  ther  latter,  it  is  de- 
ceptive. 

The  argument  from  contraries,  (e^  evavriCdV,^  noticed  by 
Aristotle,  falls  under  the  class  I  am  now  treating 

Arguments 

of;  as  it  is  plain  that  contraries  must  have  some-  from  con- 
thing  in  common ;  and  it  is  so  far  forth  only  as  traries. 
they  agree,  that  they  are  thus  employed  in  argument.  Two 
things  are  called  "  contrary,"  which,  coming  under  the  same 
class,  are  the  most  dissimilar  in  that  class.  Thus,  virtue  and 
vice  are  called  contraries,  as  being,  both,  ^^ moral  habits,''  and 
the  most  dissimilar  of  moral  habits.  Mere  dissimilarity,  it 
is  evident,  would  not  constitute  contrariety ;  for  no  one  would 
say  that  "  virtue'^  is  contrary  io  a  "mathematical  problem ;'' 
the  two  things  having  nothing  in  common.  In  this,  then,  as 
in  other  arguments  of  the  same  class,  we  may  infer  that  the 
two  contrary  terms  have  a  similar  relation  to  the  same  third, 
or,  respectively,  to  two  corresponding  (i.  e.,  in  this  case  con- 
trary) terms  :  we  may  conjecture,  e.  g.,  that  since  virtue  may 
be  acquired  by  education,  so  may  vice ;  or,  again,  that  since 
virtue  leads  to  happiness,  so  does  vice  to  misery. 

The  phrase  "  parity  of  reasoning''  is  commonly  employed 
to  denote  analo2;ical  reasonins;. 

This  would  be  the  proper  place  for  an  explanation  of  several 
points  relative  to  "induction,''  "analogy,"  etc.,  which  have 
been  treated  of  in  the  Elements  of  Logic.  I  have  only  to 
refer  the  reader  therefore  to  that  work,  B.  IV.,  ch.  i.  and  v. ; 
and  Appendix,  article  "  Experience." 


102  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 


§8. 

Aristotle,  in  his  Rhetoric,  has  divided  examples  into  real 
and  invented:  the  one  being  drawn  from  actual  matter  of 
fact;  the  other  from  a  supposed  case.  And  he  remarks,  that 
^    ,      , .        thouo'h  the  latter  is  more  easily  adduced,  the  for- 

Real  and  in-  9  .       .  xr  S  i 

vented  exam-  mer  IS  more  convincing.  It,  however,  due  care 
1^^®^-  be  taken  that  the  fictitious  instance,  the  supposed 

case,  adduced,  be  not  wanting  in  prohahiiity,  it  will  often  be 
no  less  convincing  than  the  other.  For  it  may  so  happen, 
that  one,  or  even  several,  historical  facts  may  be  appealed  to, 
which,  being  nevertheless  exceptions  to  a  general  rule,  will 
not  prove  the  probability  of  the  conclusion.  Thus,  from 
several  known  iifstances  of  ferocity  in  black  tribes,  we  are 
not  authorized  to  conclude  that  blacks  are  universally,  or 
generally,  ferocious  ]  and,  in  fact,  many  instances  may  be 
brought  forward  on  the  other  side.  Whereas  in  the  supposed 
case  (instanced  by  Aristotle,  as  employed  by  Socrates)  of 
mariners  choosing  their  steersman  by  lot,  though  we  have  no 
reason  to  suppose  such  a  case  ever  occurred,  we  see  so  plainly 
the  prohahiiity  that,  if  it  did  occur,  the  lot  might  fall  on  an 
unskilful  person,  to  the  loss  of  the  ship,  that  the  argument 
has  considerable  weight  against  the  practice,  so  common  in 
the  ancient  republics,  of  appointing  magistrates  by  lot. 

There  is,  however,  this  important  diiference  :  that  a  fic- 
titious  case  which  has  not  this  intrinsic  probabil- 
cases  must  be  ity,  has  absolutely  no  weight  whatever ;  so  that 
probable.  ^^  courso  such  arguments  might  be  multiplied 
to  any  amount,  without  the  smallest  effect :  whereas  any 
matter  of  fact  which  is  well  established,  however  imaccount- 
ahle  it  may  seem,  has  some  degree  of  weight  in  reference  to 
a  parallel  case ;  and  a  sufficient  number  of  such  arguments 
may  fairly  establish  a  general  rule,  even  though  we  may  be 
unable,  after  all,  to  account  for  the  alleged  fact  in  any  of  the 
instances,  E.  g.  :  No  satisfactory  reason  has  yet  been  as- 
signed for  a  connection  between  the  absence  of  upper  cutting 
teeth,  or  of  the  presence  of  horns,  and  rumination ;  but  the 
instances  are  so  numerous  and  constant  of  this  connection, 
that  no  naturalist  would  hesitate,  if,  on  examination  of  a  new 
species,  he  found  those  teeth  absent,  and  the  head  horned, 
to  pronounce  the  animal  a  ruminant.     Whereas^  on  the  other 


0 

CII.  II.,  §  8.]  CONVICTION.  "  103 

hand,  the  fable  of  the  countryman  who  obtained  from  Jupiter 
the  regulation  of  the  weather,  and  in  consequence  found  his 
crops  fail,  does  not  go  one  step  towards  proviug  the  intended 
conclusion ;  because  that  consequence  is  a  mere  gratuitous  as- 
sumption without  any  probability  to  support  it.  In  fact,  the 
assumption  there  is  not  only  gratuitous,  but  is  in  direct  con- 
tradiction to  experience ;  for  a  gardener  has,  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, the  command  of  rain  and  sunshine,  by  the  help  of  his 
watering-pots,  glasses,  hot-beds,  and  flues;  and  the  result  is 
not  the  destruction  of  his  crops. 

There  is  an  instance  of  a  like  error  in  a  tale  of  Cumber- 
land's, intended  to  prove  the  advantage  of  a  public  over  a 
private  education.  He  represents  two  brothers,  educated  on 
the  two  plans,  respectively;  the  former 'turning  out  very 
well,  and  the  latter  very  ill;  and  had  the  whole  been  matter 
of  fact,  a  sufficient  number  of  such  instances  would  have  had 
weight  as  an  argument ;  but  as  it  is  a  fiction,  and  no  reason 
is  shown  why  the  result  should  be  such  as  is  represented, 
except  the  supposed  superiority  of  a  public  education,  the 
argument  involves  a  manifest  petido  2^rincipu;  and  resembles 
the  appeal  made,  in  the  well-known  fable,  to  the  picture  of  a 
man  conquering  a  lion ;  a  result  which  might  just  as  easily 
have^been  reversed,  and  which  would  have  been  so,  had  lions 
been  painters.  It  is  necessary,  in  short,  to  be  able  to  main- 
tain, either  that  such  and  such  an  event  did  actually  take 
place,  or  that,  under  a  certain  hypothesis,  it  would  be  likely 
to  take  place. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  important  to  observe,  with  respect 
to  any  imasinary  case,  whether  introduced  as  an  „ 
argument,  or  merely  for  the  sake  of  explanation,  cases  af^sert 
that,  as  it  is  (according  to  what  I  have  just  said)  iiothmg. 
requisite  that  the  hypothesis  should  be  conceivable,  and  that 
the  result  supposed  should  follow  naturally  from  it,  so,  no- 
thing  more  is  to  be  required.  No  fact  being  asserted,  it  is 
not  fair  that  any  should  be  denied.  Yet  it  is  very  common 
to  find  persons,  ^'  either  out  of  ignorance  and  infirmity,  or  out 
of  malice  and  obstinacy,^^  joining  issue  on  the  question  whe- 
ther this  or  that  ever  actually  took  place ;  and  representing 
the  whole  controversy  as  turning  on  the  literal  truth  of  some- 
thing that  had  never  been  affirmed.  [See  Treatise  on  Falla- 
cies, Chapter  III.,  §  '^  Irrelevant  Conclusion/^  of  which  this 


104  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

is  a  case.]  To  obviate  this  mistake,  more  care  must  be  taken 
than  would  at  first  sight  seem  necessary,  to  remind  the  hear- 
ers that  you  are  merely  su2)2)osm(j  a  case,  and  not  asserting 
any  fact :  especially  when  (as  it  frequently  happens)  the  sup- 
posed case  is  one  which  might  actually  occur^  and  perhaps 
does  occur. 

I  can  well  sympathize  with  the  contempt  mingled  with  in- 
dignation expressed  by  Cicero  against  certain  philosophers 
who  found  fault  with  Plato  for  having,  in  a  case  he  proposes, 
alluded  to  the  fabulous  ring  of  Gyges,  which  had  the  virtue 
of  making  the  wearer  invisible.  They  had  found  out,  it 
seems,  that  there  never  was  any  such  ring.* 

It  is  worth  observing,  that  arguments  from  example,  whe- 
ther real  or  invented,  are  the  most  easily  comprehended  by 
the  young  and  the  uneducated  -,  because  they  facilitate  the 
exercise  of  abstraction — a  power  which  in  such  hearers  is 
usually  the  most  imperfect.  This  mode  of  reasoning  corre- 
sponds to  a  geometrical  demonstration  by  means  of  a  diagram; 
in  which  the  figure  placed  before  the  learner  is  an  individual , 
employed,  as  he  soon  comes  to  perceive,  as  a  sign — though 
not  an  arbitrary  signf — representing  the  whole  class.  The 
aJgehra.ic  signs,  again,  are  arbitrary;  each  character  not 
being  itself  an  individual  of  the  class  it  represents.  These 
last,  therefore,  correspond  to  the  abstract  terms  of  a  lan- 
guage. 

Under  the  head  of   Invented   Example,  a  distinction  is 


*  Atque  hoc  loco,  philosophi  quidam,  minime  mali  illi  quidem,  sed 
Eton  satis  acuti,  fictam  et  commenticiam  fabulam  prolatam  dicunt  a 
Platone:  quasi  vero  ille,  aut  factum  id  esse,  aut  fieri  potuisse  de- 
fendat.  Hsec  est  vis  hujus  annuli  et  hujus  exempli,  si  nemo  sciturus, 
nemo  ne  suspicaturus  quidem  sit,  cum  aliquid,  divitiarum,  potentife, 
dominationis,  libidinis,  caussa  feceris — si  id  diis  hominibusque  fu- 
turum  sit  semper  ignotum,  sisne  focturus.  Negant  id  fieri  posse. 
Quanquam  potest  id  quidem ;  sed  quoQrb,  quod  negant  posse,  id  si 
posset,  quiddam  facerent  ?  Urgent  rustice  sane  :  negant  enim  posse, 
et  in  eo  perstant.  Hoc  verbum  quid  valeat,  non  vident.  Cum  enim 
quoerimus,  si  possint  celare,  quid  facturi  sint,  non  quserimus,  pos- 
sintne  celare,  etc.     (Cic.  de  Oif.,  B.  Ill,,  c.  ix.) 

f  The  words,  written  or  spoken,  of  any  language,  are  arhitrary 
signs  ;  the  characters  of  picture-writing  or  hieroglyphic  are  natural 
signs. 


CII.  II.,  §  8.]  CONVICTION.  105 

drawn  by  Aristotle  between  Parabole  and  Logos. 

From  the  instances  he  s;ives,  it  is  plain  that  the      fu^^f  *."^ 

^  1      -  1  1       •         1  Illustration. 

lormer  corresponds  (not  to  parable,  in  the  sense 
in  which  we  use  the  word,  derived  from  that  of  Parabola  in 
the  sacred  writers,  but)  to  illustration ;  the  latter  to  fable  or 
tale.  In  the  former,  an  allusion  only  is  made  to  a  case  easily 
supposable ;  in  the  latfeer,  a  fictitious  story  is  narrated.  Thus, 
in  his  instance  above  cited,  of  illustration,  if  any  one,  in- 
stead of  a  mere  allusion,  should  relate  a  tale  of  mariners 
choosing  a  steersman  by  lot,  and  being  wrecked  in  conse- 
quence, Aristotle  would  evidently  have  placed  that  under  the 
head  of  Logos.  The  other  method  is  of  course  preferable, 
from  its  brevity,  whenever  the  allusion  can  be  readily  under- 
stood; arid  accordingly  it  is  common,  in  the  case  of  2vell~ 
known  fables,  to  allude  to,  instead  of  narrating  them.  That, 
e.  g.,  of  the  horse  and  the  stag,  which  he  gives,  would,  in 
the  present  day,  be  rather  alluded  to  than  told,  if  we  wished 
to  dissuade  a  people  from  calling  in  a  too  powerful  auxiliary. 
It  is  evident  that  a  like  distinction  might  have  been  made  in 
respect  of  historical  examples  ',  those '  cases  which  are  well 
known  being  often  merely  alluded  to  and  not  recited. 

The  word  "  fable"  is  at  present  generally  lim- 
ited to  those  fictions  in  which  the  resemblance  to  ftSe]^  ^"^ 
the  matter  in  question  is  not  direct,  but  analo- 
gical ;  the  other  class  being  called  novels,  tales,  etc.*  Those 
resemblances  are  (as  Dr.  A.  Smith  has  observed)  the  most 
striJxing,  in  which  the  things  compared  are  of  the  most  dis- 
similar nature ;  as  is  the  case  in  what  we  call  fables ;  and 
such  accordingly  are  generally  preferred  for  argumentative 
purposes,  both  from  that  circumstiince  itself,  and  also  on  ac- 
count of  the  greater  hrevitp  which  is,  for  that  reason,  not 
only  allowed  but  required  in  them.  For  a  fable  spun  out  to 
a  great  length  becomes  an  allegory,  which  generally  satiates 
and  disgusts  :  on  the  other  hand,  a  fictitious  tale,  having  a 
more  direct,  and  therefore  less  striking  resemblance  to  reality, 
requires  that  an  interest  in  the  events  and  persons  should  be 
created  by  a  longer  detail,  without  which  it  would  be  insipid. 
The  fable  of  the  Old  Man  and  the  Bundle  of  Sticks,  com- 

^'  A  novel  or  tale  may  be  compared  to  a  picture ;  a  fable,  to  a 
device. 


106  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

pared  with  the  Iliad,  may  serve  to  exemplify  what  has  been 
said :  the  moral  conveyed  by  each  being  the  same,  viz.,  the 
strength  acquired  by  union,  and  the  weakness  reslilting  from 
division :  the  latter  fiction  would  be  perfectly  insipid  if  con- 
veyed in  a  few  lines ;  the  former,  in  twenty-four  books,  in- 
supportable. 

Of  the  various  uses,  and  of  the  real  or  apparent  refuta- 
tion, of  examples,  (as  well  as  of  other  arguments,)  I  shall 
treat  hereafter;  but  it  may  be  worth  while  here  to  observe, 
that  I  have  been  speaking  of  example  as  a  kind  of  argu- 
ment, and  with  a  view  therefore  to  that  purpose  alone; 
though  it  often  happens  that  a  resemblance,  either  direct 
or  analogical,  is  introduced  for  other  purposes;  viz.,  not  to 
jwove  any  thing,  but  either  to  illustrate  and  explain  one's 
meaning,  (which  is  the  strict  etymological  use  of  the  word 
illustration,)  or  to  amuse  the  fancy  by  ornament  of  language; 
in  which  case  it  is  usually  called  a  simile :  as,  for  instance, 
when  a  person  whose  fortitude,  forbearance,  and  other  such 
virtues,  are  called  forth  by  persecutions  and  ajjflictions,  is 
compared  to  those  herbs  which  give  out  their  fragrance  on 
being  bruised.  It  is  of  course  most  important  to  distinguish, 
both  in  our  own  compositions  and  those  of  others,  between 
these  difi"erent  purposes.  I  shall  accordingly  advert  to  this 
subject  in  the  course  of  the  following  chapter. 


CHAPTER   III 


OF  THE  VARIOUS  USE  AND  ORDER  OF  THE  SEVERAL  KINDS  OF 
PROPOSITIONS  AND  OP  ARGUMENTS  IN  DIFFERENT  CASES. 


§1- 

The  first  rule  to  be  observed  is,  that  it  should  be  con- 
sidered whether  the  principal  object  of  the  dis- 
eonftuation^^  course  be  to  give  satisfaction  to  a  candid  mind, 
and  of  satis-     and  convey  instruction  to  those  who  arc  ready  to 
receive  it,  or  to  compel  the  assent,  or  silence  the 
objections,  of  an  opponent.     For  cases  may  occur  in  which 


CH.  III.,  §  1.]  CONVICTION.  107 

the  arguments  to  be  employed  with  most  effect  will  be  differ- 
ent, according  as  it  is  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  objects 
that  we  are  arming  at.  It  will  often  happen  that  of  the  two 
great  classes  into  which  arguments  were  divided,  the  "  d  jjj'I- 
ori^'  [or  argument  from  cause  to  effect]  will  be  principally  'i 
employed  when  the  cjiief  object  is  to  instruct  the  learner; 
and  the  other  class,  when  our  aim  is  to  refute  the  opponent. 
And  to  whatever  class  the  arguments  we  resort  to  may  be- 
long, the  general  tenor  of  the  reasoning  will,  in  many  re- 
spects, be  affected  by  the  present  consideration.  The  distinc- 
tion in  question  is  nevertheless  in  general  little  attended  to. 
It  is  usual  to  call  an  argument,  simply,  strong  or  weak,  with- 
out reference  to  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  designed ;  where- 
as, the  arguments  which  afford  the  most  satisfaction  to  a 
candid  mind  are  often  such  as  would  have  less  wem-ht  in 
controversy  than  many  others,  which  again  would  be  less 
suitable  for  the  former  purpose.  E.  g.  :  There  are  some  of 
the  internal  evidences  of  Christianity  which,  in  general,  are 
the  most  satisfactory  to  a  believer's  mind,  but  are  not  the 
most  striking  in  the  refutation  of  unbelievers  :  the  argu- 
ments from  analogy,  on  the  other  hand,  which  are  (in  refut- 
ing objections)  the  most  unanswerable,  are  not  so  pleasing 
and  consolatory. 

My  meaning  cannot  be  better  illustrated  than  by  an  in- 
stance referred  to  in  that  incomparable  specimen  of  reason- 
ing, Pr.  Palcy's  HorcB  PauUnce :  "  When  we  take  into  our 
hands  the  letters'^  (viz.,  Paul's  Epistles)  "  which  the  suffrage 
and  consent  of  antiquity  hath  thus  transmitted  to  us,  the  first 
thing  that  strikes  our  attention  is  the  air  of  reality  and  busi- 
ness, as  well  as  of  seriousness  and  conviction,  which  pervades 
the  whole.  Let  the  skeptic  read  them.  If  he  be  not  sen- 
sible of  these  qualities  in  them,  the  argument  can  have  no 
weight  with  him.  If  he  be — if  he  perceive  in  almost  every  . 
page  the  language  of  a  mind  actuated  by  real  occasions,  and 
operating  upon  real  circumstances — I  would  wish  it  to  be  ob- 
served, that  the  proof  which  arises  from  this  perception  is 
not  to  be  deemed  occult  or  imaginary,  because  it  is  incapable 
of  being  drawn  out  in  words,  or  of  being  conveyed  to  the 
apprehension  of  the  reader  in  any  other  way  than  by  sending 
him  to  the  books  themselves."* 

*  P.  403. 


108  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

There  is  also  a  passage  in  Dr.  A.  Smith's  Theory  of  floral 
Sentiments,  which  illustrates  very  happily  one  of  the  appli- 
cations of  the  principle  in  question  :  "  Sometimes  we  have 
occasion  to  defend  the  propriety  of  observing  the  general 
rules  of  justice,  by  the  consideration  of  their  necessity  to 
the  support  of  society.  We  frequently  hear  the  young  and 
the  licentious  ridiculing  the  most  sacred  rules  of  morality, 
and  professing,  sometimes  from  the  corruption,  but  more  fre- 
quently from  the  vanity  of  their  hearts,  the  most  abominable 
maxims  of  conduct.  Our  indignation  rouses,  and  we  are 
eager  to  refute  and  expose  such  detestable  principles.  But 
though  it  is  their  intrinsic  hatefulness  and  detestableness 
which  originally  inflames  us  against  them,  we  are  unwilling 
to  assign  this  as  the  sole  reason  why  we  condemn  them,  or 
to  prebtend  that  it  is  merely  because  we  ourselves  hate  and"  de- 
test them.  The  reason,  we  think,  would,  not  appear  to  be 
conclusive.  Yet  why  should  it  not,  if  we  hate  and  detest 
them  because  they  are  the  natural  and  proper  objects  of 
hatred  and  detestation  ?  But  when  we  are  asked  why  we 
should  not  act  in  such  or  such  a  manner,  the  very  question 
seems  to  suppose  that,  to  those  who  ask  it,  this  manner  of 
acting  does  not  appear  to  be  so  for  its  own  sake  the  natural 
and  proper  object  of  those  sentiments.  We  must  show  them, 
therefore,  that  it  ought  to  be  so  for  the  sake  of  something 
else.  Upon  this  account  we  generally  cast  about  for  other 
arguments ;  and  the  consideration  which  first  occurs  to  ois,  is 
the  disorder  and  confusion  of  society  which  would  result 
from  the  universal  prevalence  of  such  practices.  We  sel- 
dom fail,  therefore,  to  insist  upon  this  topic.''* 

It  may  serve  to  illustrate  what  has  been  just  said,  to 
remark  that  our  judgment  of  the  character  of  any  individual 
is  often  not  originally  derived  from  such  circum- 
of^our  jiidg*-^  stances  as  we  should  assign,  or  could  adequately 
mentsof  in-  get  forth  in  language,  in  justification  of  our  opi- 
nion. When  we  undertake  to  give  our  reasons 
for  thinking  that  some  individual,  wiCli  whom  we  are  person- 
ally acquainted,  is  or  is  not  a  gentleman,  a  man  of  taste,  hu- 
mane, public-spirited,  etc.,  we  of  course  appeal  to  his  con- 
duct, or  his   distinct  avowal  of  his  own  sentiments;  and  if 

*  Part  II.,  sec.  ii.,  pp.  151,  152,  yoI.  i.-,  ed.  1812. 


CH.  III.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  109 

thes'e  firrnish  sufficient  proof  of  our  assertions,  we  are  ad- 
mitted to  have  given  good  reaso7is  for  our  opinion ;  but  it 
may  be  still  doubted  whether  these  were,  in  the  first  instance 
at  least,  our  reasons,  which  led  us  to  form  that  opinion.  If 
we  carefully  and  candidly  examine  our  own  mind,  we  shall 
generally  find  that  our  judgment  was,  originally,  (if  not  ab- ' 
solutely  decided,)  at  least  strongly  influenced,  by  the  person's 
looks,  tones  of  voice,  gestures,  choice  of  expressions,  and  the 
like;  which,  if  stated  as  reasons  for  forming  a  conclusion, 
would  in  general  appear  frivolous,  merely  because  no  lan- 
guage is  competent  adequately  to  describe  them  ;  but  which 
are  not  necessarily  insufficient  grounds  for  beginning  at  least 
to  form  an  opinion ;  since  it  is  notorious  that  there  are  many 
acute  persons  who  are  seldom  deceived  in  such  indications  of 
character. 

In  all  subjects,  indeed,  persons  unaccustomed  to  writing  or 
discussion,  but  possessing  natural  sagacity,  and  experience  in 
particular  departments,  have  been  observed,  to  be  generally 
unable  to  give  a  satisfactory  reason  for  their  judgments,  even 
on  points  on  which  they  are  actually  very  good  judges."^'  This 
is  a  defect  which  it  is  the  business  of  education  (especially 
the  present  branch  of  it)  to  surmount  or  diminish.  After 
all,  however,  in  some  subjects,  no  language  can  adequately 
convey  (to  the  inexperienced  at  least)  all  the  indications  which 
influence  the  judgmejit  of  an  'acute  and  practiced  observer. 
And  hence  it  has  been  justly  and  happily  remarked,  that 
"he  must  be  an  indifferent  physician  who  never  takes  any 
step  for  which  he  cannot  assign  a  satisfactory  reason." 


It  is  a  point  of  great  importance  to  decide  in  each  case,  at 
the  outset,  in  your  own  mind,  and  clearly  to  point    „ 

,,.,'•,•'  .       '  ■  ^  •   1       Presumption 

out  to  the  hearer,  as  occasion  may  serve,  on  which  and  burden 
side  the  presumption  lies,  and  to  which  belongs  ^^  pi'O'^f. 
the  [onus  probandi]  hurdcii  of  proof .  For  though  it  may 
often  be  expedient  to  bring  forward  more  proofs  than  can  be 
fairly  demanded  of  you,  it  is  always  desirable,  when  this  is 
the  case,  that  it  should  be  Jaioicn,  and  that  the  strength  of 
the  cause  should  be  estimated  accordingly. 

*  Sec  Aristotle's  Ethics,  B.  VI. 


110  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

According  to  the  most  correct  use  of  the  term,  a  *^  pre- 
sumption" in  favor  of  any  supposition  means,  not  (as  has 
been  sometimes  erroneously  imagined)  a  preponderance  of 
probability  in  its  favor,  but  such  a  preoccupation  of  the 
ground  as  implies  that  it  must  stand  good  till  some  sufficient 
reason  is  adduced  against  it;  in  short,  that  the  burden  of 
proof  lies  on  the  side  of  him  who  would  dispute  it. 

Thus,  it  is  a  well-known  principle  of  the  law,  that  every 
man  (including  a  prisoner  brought  up  for  trial)  is  to  be  prc- 
aumed  innocent  till  his  guilt  is  established.  This  does  not, 
of  course,  mean  that  we  are  to  take  for  granted  he -is  inno- 
cent; for  if  that  were  the  case,  he  would  be  entitled  to  im- 
mediate liberation ;  nor  does  it  mean  that  it  is  antecedently 
more  likely  than  wo^that  he  is  innocent,  or  that  the  majority 
of  those  brought  to  trial  are  so.  It  evidently  means  only 
that  the  '' burden  of  proof"  lies  with  the  accusers;  that  he 
is  not  to  be  called  on  to  prove  his  innocence,  or  to  be  dealt 
with  as  a  criminal  till  he  has  done  so ;  but  that  they  are  to 
bring  their  charges  against  him,  which  if  he  can  repel,  he 
stands  acquitted. 

Thus,  again,  there  is  a  '^  presumption"  in  favor  of  the 
right  of  any  individuals  or  bodies  corporate  to  the  property 
of  which  they  are  in  actual  possession.  This  does  not  mean 
that  they  arc,  or  are  not,  likely  to  be  the  rightful  owners; 
but  merely,  that  no  man  is  to  be  disturbed  in  his  possessions 
till  some  claim  against  him  shall  be  established.  He  is  not 
to  be  called  on  to  prove  his  right ;  but  the  claimant  to  dis- 
prove it;  upon  whom,  consequently,  the  "burden  of  proof" 
lies. 

A  moderate  portion  of  common  sense  will  enable  any  one 
to  perceive,  and  to  show,  on  which  side  the  pre- 
iWfy.^^.^^j^  sumption  lies,  when  once  his  attention  is  called 
on  which  side  to  tliis  question;  though,  for  want  of  attention, 
probandt^*^^  it  is  often  overlooked;  and  on  the  determination 
of  this  question  the  whole  character  of  a  discus- 
sion will  often  very  much  depend.  A  body  of  troops  may 
be  perfectly  adequate  to  the  defence. of  a  fortress  against  any 
attack  that  may  be  made  on  it;  and  yet,  if,  ignorant  of  the 
advantage  they  possess,  they  sally  forth  into  the  open  field 
to  encounter  the  enemy,  they  may  suffer  a  repulse.  At  any 
rate,  even  if  strong  enough  to  act  on  the  offensive,  they  ought 


CH.  III.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  Ill 

still  to  keep  possession  of  their  fortress.  In  like  manner,  if 
you  have  the  "  presumption"  on  your  side,  and  can  but  refute 
all  the  arguments  brought  against  you,  you  have,  for  the  pre- 
sent at  least,  gained  a  victory ;  but  if  you  abandon  this  posi- 
tion, by  suifering  this  presumption  to  be  forgotten,  which  is 
in  fact  leaving  out  one  of  perhaps,  your  strongest  arguments^ 
you  may  appear  to  be  making  a  feeble  attack,  instead  of  a 
triumphant  defence. 

Such  an  obvious  case  as  one  of  those  just  stated,  will  serve 
to  illustrate  this  principle.  Let  any  one  imagine  a  perfectly 
unsupported  accusation  of  some  oifence  to  be  brought  against 
himself;'  and  then  let  him  imagine  himself — instead  of  re- 
plying (as  of  course  he  would  do)  by  a  simple  denial,  and  a 
defiance  of  his  accuser  to  prove  the  charge — setting  himself 
to  establish  a  negative — taking  on  himself  the  burden  of 
proving  his  own  innocence,  by  collecting  all  the  circumstances 
indicative  of  it  that  he  can  muster ;  and  the  result  would  be, 
in  many  cases,  that  this  evidence  would  fall  far  short  of  es- 
tablishing a  certainty,  and  might  even  have  the  effect  of  rais- 
ing a  suspicion  against  him  ;*  he  having  in  fact  kept  out  of 
sight  the  important  circumstance,  that  these  probabilities  in 
one  scale,  though  of  no  great  weight  perhaps  in  themselves, 
are  to  be  weighed  against  absolutely  nothing  in  the  other 
scale. 

The  following  are  a  few  of  the  cases  in  which  it  is  import- 
ant, though  very  easy,  to  point  out  where  the  presumption  lies. 

There  is  a  presumption  in  favor  of  every  existing  institu- 
tion.    Many  of  these  (we  will  suppose  the  major- 
ity)   may  be    susceptible    of  alteration    for  the   inflvor^jr^ 
better;  but  still  the  "burden  of  proof"  lies  with   tutfou"" "^^*^' 
him  who  proposes  an  alteration ;  simply  on  the 
ground  that  since  a  change  is  not  a  good  in  itself,  he  who 
demands  a  change  should   show   cause   for  it.     No   one   is 
called  on  (though  he  may  find  it  advisable)  to  defend  an  ex- 
isting institution,  till  some  argument  is  adduced  against  it; 
and  that  argument  ought  in  fairness  to  prove,  not  merely  an 
actual  inconvenience,  but  the  possibility  of  a  change  for  the 
better. 

Every  book  again,   as  well  as  person,  ought  to  be  pre- 

*  Hence  the  French  proverb,  **Qui  s'excuse,  s'accuse." 


112    '  ELEMENTS    OF   RHETORIC.  [PART    I. 

sumed  harmless  (and  consequently  the  copyright 
onMSnc?.    protected  by  our  courts)  till  something  is  proved 

against  it.  It  is  a  hardship  to  require  a  man  to 
prove,  either  of  his  book,  or  of  his  private  life,  that  there  is 
no  ground  for  any  accusation,  or  else  to  be  denied  the  pro- 
tection of  his  country.  The  burden  of  proof,  in  each  case, 
lies  fairly  on  the  accuser.  I  cannot  but  consider  therefore  as 
utterly  unreasonable  the  decisions  (which  some  years  ago 
excited  so  much  attention)  to  refuse  the  interference  of  the 
Court  of  Chancery  in  cases  of  piracy,  whenever  there  was 
even  any  douht  whether  the  book  pirated  might  not  contain 
something  of  an  immoral  tendency. 

There  is  a  "presumption"  against  any  thing  jDaradoxical, 

i.  e.,  contrary  to  the  prevailing  opinion  :  it  may 
agafnsTa  ^^^    be  true ;  but  the  burden  of  proof  lies  with  him  ■ 
paradox.  ^j-^q  maintains  it;  since  men  are  not  to  be  ex- 

pected to  abandon  the  prevailing  belief  till  some  reason  is 
shown. 

Hence  it  is,  probably,  that  many  are  accustomed  to  apply 
'^  paradox"  as  if  it  were  a  term  of  reproach,  and  implied 
absurdity  or  falsity.  But  correct  use  is  in  favor  of  the  ety- 
mological sense.  If  a  paradox  is  unsupported,  it  can  claim 
no  attention  ]  but  if  false,  it  should  be  censured  on  that 
ground;  but  not  for  being  new.  If  true,  it  is  the  more  im- 
portant, for  being  a  truth  not  generally  admitted.  "  Inter- 
dum  vulgus  rectum  videt;  est  ubi  peccat."^  Yet  one  often 
hears  a  charge  of  ''  paradox  and  nonsense"  brought  forward, 
as  if  there  was  some  close  connection  between  the  two. 
And  indeed,  in  one  sense  this  is  the  case ;  for  to  those  who 
are  too  dull,  or  too  prejudiced,  to  admit  any  notion  at  variance 
with  those  they  have  been  used  to  entertain,  {napa  do^av,^ 
that  may  appear  nonsense  which  to  others  is  sound  sense. 
Thus  ''Christ  crucified"  was  "to  the  Jews  a  stumbling- 
block,"  (paradox,)  "  and  to  the  G^reeks  foolishness ;"  because 
the  one  "  required  a  sign"  of  a  different  kind  from  any  that 
appeared;  and  the  others  "sought  after  wisdom"  in  their 
schools  of  philosophy. 

Accordingly,  there  was  a  presumption  against  the  gospel 
^v,  •  ^.■    ■^.       in  its  first  announcement.      A  Jewish  peasant 

Christiamty,         ,.        ,  t         -,  •      t    t\  t  -i 

presumptions   claimed  to  be  the  promised  Deliverer,  in  whom 
against  and      ^jj  ^^^  natioHS  of  the  caith  were  to  be  blessed. 


CH.  III.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  113 

The  burden  of  proof  lay  with  liim.  No  one  could  be  fairly 
called  on  to  admit  his  pretensions  till  he  showed  cause  for 
believing  in  him.  If  he  *'  had  not  done  among  them  the 
works  which  none  other  man  did,  they  had  not  had  sin." 

Noio,  the  case  is  reversed.  Christianity  exists  ;  and  those 
who  deny  the  Divine  origin  attributed  to  it,  are  bound  to 
show  some  reasons  for  assigning  to  it  a  human  origin  :  not 
indeed  to  prove  that  it  did  originate  in  this  or  that  way, 
without  supernatural  aid  ;  but  to  point  out  some  conceivable 
way  in  which  it  might  have  so  arisen. 

It  is  indeed  highly  expedient  tb  bring  forward  evidence  to 
establish  the  I)ivine  origin  of  Christianity ;  but  it  ought  to 
be  more  carefully  kept  in  mind  than  is  done  by  most  writers, 
that  all  this  is  an  argument  "  ex  abundanti,"  as  the  phrase 
is — over  and  above  what  can  fairly  be  called  for,  till  some 
hypothesis  should  be  framed  to  account  for  the  origin  of 
Christianity  by  human*  means.  The  burden  of  proof,  noic, 
lies  plainly  on  him  who  rejects  the  gospel;  which,  if  it  were 
not  established  by  miracles,  demands  an  explanation  of  the 
greater  miracle — its  having  been  established,  in  defiance  of 
all  opposition,  by  human  contrivance. 

The  burden  of  proof,  again,  lay  on  the  authors  of  the 
Reformation  :  they  were  bound  to  show  cause  for 
every  change  they  advocated;  and  they  admitted  JoJ.^^^^^"^^' 
the  fairness  of  this  requisition,  and  accepted  the 
challenge.  But  they  were  7iot  bound  to  show  cause  for  re- 
taining what  they  left  unaltered.  The  presumption  was,  in 
those  points,  on  their  side;  and'  they  had  only  to  reply  to 
objections.  This  imp(5r,tant  distinction  is  often  lost  sight  of, 
by  those  who  look  at  the  ''  doctrines,  etc.,  of  the  Church  of 
England  as  constituted  at  the  Reformation,"  in  the  mass, 
\^ithout  distinguishing  the  altered  from  the  unaltered  parts. 
The  framers  of  the  Articles  kept  this  in  mind  in  their  ex- 
pression respecting  infant  baptism,  that  it  "  ought  by  all 
means  to  be  retained.'^  They  did  not  introduce  the  practice, 
but  left  it  as  they  found  it ;  considering  the  burden  to  lie  on 
those  who  denied,  its  existence  in  the  primitive  Church,  to 
show  when  it  did  arise. 

The  case  of  Episcopacy  is  exactly  parallel ;  but  Hooker 
seems  to  have  overlooked  this  advantage :  he  sets  himself  to 
;prove  the  apostolic  origin  of  the  institution;  as  if  his  task 


114  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

had  been  to  introduce  it."*"  Whatever  force  there  may  be  in 
arguments  so  adduced,  it  is  plain  they  must  have  far  wore 
force  if  the  important  presumption  be  kept  in  view,  that  the 
institution  had  notoriously  existed  many  ages,  and  that  con- 
sequently, even  if  there  had  been  no  direct  evidence  for  its 
being  coeval  with  Christianity,  it  might  fairly  be  at  least  sup- 
posed to  be  so,  till  some  other  period  should  be  pointed  out 
at  which  it  had  been  introduced  as  an  innovation. 

In  the  case  of  any  doctrines,  again,  professing  to  be  essen- 
tial parts  of  the  gospel  revelation,  the  fair  pre- 
la  1  ion.  suniiHion  is  that  we  shall  find  all  such  distinctly 
declared  in  Scripture.  And  again,  in  respect  of  commands 
or  prohibitions  as  to  any  point,  which  our  Lord  or  his  apostles 
did  deliver,  there  is  a  presumption  that  Christians  are  bound 
to  comply.  If  any  one  maintains,  on  the  ground  of  tradition, 
the  necessity  of  some  additional  article  of  faith,  (as  for 
instance  that  of  purgatory,)  or  the  pTopriety  of  a  departure 
from  the  New  Testament  precepts,  (as  for  instance  in  the  de- 
nial of  the  cup  to  the  laity  in  the  eucharist,)  the  burden  of 
proof  lies  with  him.  Wc  are  not  called  on  to  prove  that 
there  is  no  tradition  to  the  purpose ;  much  less,  that  no  tra- 
dition can  have  any  weight  at  all  in  any  case.  It  is  for  him 
to  prove,  not  merely  generally,  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
tradition,  and  that  it  is  entitled  to  respect,  but  that  there  is 
a  tradition  relative  to  each  of  the  points  which  he  thus  main- 
tains ;  and  that  such  tradition  is,  in  each  point,  sufficient  to 
establish  that  point.  For  want  of  observing  this  rule,  the 
most  vague  and  interminable  disputes  have  often  been  carried 
on  respecting  tradition,  generally.  * 

It  should  be  also  remarked  under  this  head,  that  in  any 
one  question  the  presumption  will  often  be<,  found  to  lie  on 
different  sides,  in  respect  of  different  parties.  E.  g.  :  In  the 
question  between  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England  and  a 
Presbyterian,  or  member  of  any  other  Church,  on  which  side 
does  the  presumption  lie  ?  Evidently,  to  each,  in  favor  of 
the  religious  community  to  which  he  at  present  belongs.     He 


■^  On  the  ambiguous  employment  of  the  phrase  "Divine  origin" — 
a  great  source  of  confused  reasoning  among  theologians  —  I  have 
offered  some  remarks  in  Essay  IL,  "  On  the  Kingdom  of  Christ,"  g 
17,  4th  edit. 


CH.  III.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  115 

is  not  to  separate  from  the  Cliurcli  of  which  he  is  a  member 
without  having  some  sufficient  reason  to  allege. 

A  presumption  evidently  admits  of  various  degrees  of 
strengtli,  from  the  very  faintest,  up  to  a  complete  and  confi- 
dent acquiescence. 

The  person,  _  body,  or  book,  in  favor  of  whose  decisions 
there  is  a  certain  presumption,  is  said  to  have,  so 
far,  "  authority,"  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word.*       Reference. 
And  a  recognition  of  this   kind  of  authority — an  habitual 

presumption  in  favor  of  such  a  one's  decisions  or  opinions 

is  usually  called  "  deference.'' 

It  will  often  happen  that  this  deference  is  not  recognized 
by  either  party.  A  man  will  perhaps  disavow  with  scorn  all 
deference  for  some  person — a  son  or  daughter,  perhaps,  or  an 
humble  companion — whom  he  treats,  in  manner,  with  fami- 
liar superiority;  and  the  other  party  will  as  readily  and  sin- 
cerely renounce  all  pretension  to  authority;  and  yet  there 
may  be  that  "  habitual  presumption"  in  the  mind  of  the  one, 
in  favor  of  the  opinions,  suggestions,  etc.,  of  the  other,  which 
we  have  called  deference.  These  parties,  however,  are  not 
using  the  ivords  in  a  different  sense,  but  are  unaware  of  the 
state  of  the  fact.     There  is  a  deference;  but  unconscious. 

Those  who  are  habitually  wanting  in  defer- 
ence towards  such  as  we  think  entitled  to  it,  are  ^"^S''^"^^- 
usually  called  "  arroffa72f ;"  the  word  being  used  as  distin- 
guished from  self-conceited,  proud,  vain,  and  other  kindred 
words.  Such  persons  may  be  described  as  having  an  habit- 
ual and  exclusive  ''self-deference." 

Of  course  the  persons  and  works  which  are  looked  up  to 
as  high  authorities,  or  the  contrary,  will  differ  in  each  age, 
country,  and  class  of  men.  But  most  people  are  disposed- 
measuring  another  by  their  own  judgment — to  reckon  him 
arrogant  who  disregards  what  the?/  deem  the  best  authorities. 
That  man,  however,  may  most  fairly  and  strictly  be  so  called 
who  has  no  deference  for  those  whom  he  /umse//'  thinks  most 
highly  of  And  instances  may  be  found  of  this  character : 
i.  e.,  of  a  man  who  shall  hold  in  high  estimation  the  ability 
and  knowledge   of   certain    persons  — rating   them   perhaps 


*  See  article  "Authority,"  in  Appendix  to  "Elements  of  Logic." 


116  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

above  himself — whose  most  deliberate  judgments,  even  on 
matters  they  are  most  conversant  with,  he  will  neverthe- 
less utterly  set  at  naught,  in  each  particular  case  that  arises, 
if  they  happen  not  to  coincide  with  the  idea  that  first  strikes 
his  mind. 

For  it  is  to  be  observed  that  admiration,  esteem,  and  con- 
currence in  opinion  are  quite  distinct  from  "  de- 
Admiration  ference,''  and  not  necessarily  accompanied  by  it. 
ence  distinct.  If  any  One  makes  what  appears  to  us  to  be  a  very 
just  remark,  or  if  we  acquiesce  in  what  he  pro- 
poses on  account  of  the  reasons  he  alleges,  this  is  not  defer- 
ence. And  if  this  has  happened  many  times,  and  we  thence 
form  a  high  opinion  of  his  ability,  this  again  neither  implies 
nor  even  necessarily  produces  deference  ]  though,  in  reason, 
such  ought  to  be  the  result.  But  one  may  often  find  a  per- 
son conversant  with  two  others,  A  and  B,  and  estimating  A 
without  hesitation  as  the  superior  man  of  the  two ;  and  yet, 
in  any  case  whatever  that  may  arise,  where  A  and  B  differ 
in  their  judgment,  taking  for  granted  at  once  that  B  is  in  the 
right.  ' 

Admiration,  esteem,  etc.,  are  more  the  result  of  a  judg- 
ment of  the  under sta7iding ;  (though  often  of 
deference!^  an  erroneous  one;)  "  deference"  is  apt  to  depend 
on  feelings ;  often  on  whimsical  and  unaccount- 
able feelings.  It  is  often  yielded  to  a  vigorous  claim — to  an 
authoritative  and  overbearing  demeanor.  With  others,  of  an 
opposite  character,  a  soothing,  insinuating,  flattering,  and 
seemingly  submissive  demeanor  will  often  gain  great  influence. 
They  will  yield  to  those  who  seem  to  yield  to  them :  the 
others,  to  those  who  seem  resolved  to  yield  to  no  one.  Those 
who  seek  to  gain  adherents  to  their  school  or  party  by  putting 
forth  the  claim  of  antiquity  in  favor  of  their  tenets,  are  likely 
to  be  peculiarly  successful  among  those  of  an  arrogant  dis- 
position. A  book  or  a  tradition  of  a  thousand  years  old  ap- 
i:>ears  to  be  rather  a  thing  than  a  p>erson ;  and  will  thence 
often  be  regarded  with  blind  deference  by  those  who  are 
prone  to  treat  their  contemporaries  with  insolent  contempt, 
but  who  "  will  not  go  to  compare  with  an  old  man."*  They 
will  submit  readily  to  the  authority  of  men  who  flourished 


*  Shakspeare,  Twelfth  Night. 


CII.  III.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  117 

fifteen  or  sixteen  centuries  ago,  and  whom,  if  now  living, 
they  would  not  treat  with  decent  respect. 

With  some  persons,  again,  authority  seems  to  act  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  gravitation — inversely  as  the  squares  of  the 
distances.  They  are  inclined  to  be  of  the  opinion  of  the 
person  who  is  nearest.  Personal  affection,  again,  in  many 
minds,  generates  deference.  They  form  a  habit  of  first  tcish- 
ingf,  secondly  hoping,  and  thirdly  believing  a  person  to  be  in 
the  right,  whom  they  would  be  sorrij  to  think  mistaken.  In 
a  state  of  morbid  depression  of  spirits,  the  same  cause  leads 
to  the  opposite  efi"ect.  To  a  person  in  that  state,  whatever 
he  would  be  "  sorry  to  think"  appears  probable ;  and  conse- 
quently there  is  a  presumption  in  his  mind  against  the  opi- 
nions, measures,  etc.,  of  those  he  is  most  attached  to.  That 
the  degree  of  deference  felt  for  any  one's  authority  ought  to 
depend  not  on  our  feelings,  but  on  our  judgment,  it  is  almost 
superfluous  to  remark  ;  but  it  is  important  to  remember  that 
there  is  a  danger  on  loth  sides — of  an  unreasonable  presump- 
tion either  on  the  side  of  our  wishes,  or  against  them. 

It  is  obvious  that  deference  ought  to  be,  and  usually  is, 
felt  in  reference  to  particular  points.  One  has  a  p^fgrence  as 
deference  for  his  physician,  in  questions  of  me-  to  particular 
dicine ;  and  for  his  bailifi^,  in  questions  'of  farm-  P'^^^^'^^- 
ihg;  but  not  vice  versa.  And,  accordingly,  deference  may 
be  misplaced  in  respect  to  the  subject^  as  well  as  of  the  per- 
son. It  is  conceivable  that  one  may  have  a  due  degree  of 
deference,  and  an  excess  of  it,  and  a  deficiency  of  it,  all 
towards  the  same  person,  but  in  respect  of  different  points. 

It  is  worth  remarking,  as  a  curious  fact,  that  men  are  liable 
to  deceive  themselves  as  to  the  degree  of  defer-    ^^^^  ^^^^^ 
ence  they  feel  towards  various  persons.     But  the    seiMeceived 
case  is  the  same  (as  I  shall  have  occasion  here-    feei?n<Sfof 
after  to  point  out*)  with   many  other  feelings    deference, 
also,  such  as  pity,  contempt,  love,  joy,  etc. ;   in  respect  of 
which  we  are  apt  to.  mistake  the  conviction  that  such  and 
such  an  object  deserves  pity,  contempt,  etc.,  for  the  feeling 
itself;  which  often  does  not  accompany  that  conviction.    And 
so,  also,  a  person  will  perhaps  describe  himself  (with  sincere 
good  faith)  as  feeling  great  deference  towards  some  one,  on 

*  Part  IL,  ch.  i.,  §  2. 


*118  ELEMENTS    OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

tlie  ground  of  his  believing  him  to  be  entitled  to  it ;  and  per- 
haps being  really  indignant  against  a7ii/  one  else  who  does  not 
manifest  it.  Sometimes,  again,  one  will  mistake  for  a  feeling 
of  deference  his  concurrence  with  another's  views,  and  ad- 
miration of  what  is  said  or  done  by  him.  But  this,  as  has 
been  observed  above,  does  not  imply  deference,  if  the  same 
approbation  would  have  been  bestowed  on  the  same  views, 
supposing  them  stated  and  maintained  in  an  anonymous  paper. 
The  converse  mistake  is  equally  natural.  A  man  may  fancy 
that,  in  each  case,  he  acquiesces  in  such  a  one's  views  or  sug- 
gestions from  the  dictates  of  judgment,  and  for  the  reasons 
given  ;  ("What  she  does  seems  wisest,  virtuousest,  discreetest, 
best  ;"*)  when  yet  perhaps  the  very  same  reasons,  coming 
from  another,  would  have  been  rejected. 

It  is  worth  observing,  also,  that  though,  as  has  been  above 
statements  of  I'^marked,  (Ch.  II.,  §  4,)  questions  of  fact  and 
facts  liable  to  of  opinion  ought  to  be  decided  on  very  different 
ed,  when^^  "  grounds,  yet,  with  many  persons,  a  statement  of 
coming  from  facts  is  very  little  attended  to  when  cominc;  from 
judgment  is  One  for  wliose  judgment  (though  they  do  not  de- 
uucfervaiued.  Hberately  doubt  his  veracity)  they  have  little  or 
no  deference.  For,  by  common  minds,  the  above  distinction, 
between  matters  of  fact  and  opinion,  is  but  imperfectly  ap- 
prehended."j"  It  is  not  therefore  always  superfluous  to  en- 
deavor to  raise  a  presumption  in  favor  of  the  judgment  of  one 
whom  you  wish  to  obtain  credit,  even  in  respect  of  matters 
in  which  judgment  has,  properly,  little  or  no  concern. 

It  is  usual,  and  not  unreasonable,  to  pay  more  deference — 
other  points  being  equal — to  the  decisions  of  a  council  or 
assembly  of  any  kind,  (embodied  in  a  manifesto,  act  of  par- 
liament, speech  from  the  throne,  report,  set  of  articles,  etc.,) 
than  to  those  of  an  individual,  equal  or  even  superior  to  any 
member  of  such  assembly.  But  in  one  point — and  it  is  a 
very  important  one,  though  usually  overlooked — this  rule  is 
subject  to  something  of  an  exception  j  which  may  be  thus 
stated  :  in  any  composition  of  an  individual  who  is  deemed 
worthy  of  respect,  we  presume  that  whatever  he  says  must 

"  Milton. 

I  It  is  a  curious  characteristic  of  some  of  our  older  writers,  that 
they  are  accustomed  to  cite  authorities,  and  that  most  profusely,  for 
matters  of  opinion,  while  for  facts  they  often  omit  to  cite  any. 


CH.  III.,  §  2.1  CONVICTION.  119 

have  some  meaning — must  tend  toward  some  object  wliicli 
could  not  be  equally  accomplished  by  erasing  the  whole  pas- 
sage. He  is  expected  never  to  lay  down  a  rule,  and  then  add 
exceptions,  nearly  or  altogether  coextensive  with  it;  nor  in 
any  way  to  have  so  modiQpd  and  explained  away  some  as- 
sertion, that  each  portion  of  a  passage  shall  be  virtually  neu- 
tralized by  the  other.  Now  if  we  interpret  in  this  way  any 
joint  production  of  several  persons,  we  shall  often  be  led  into 
mistakes.  For  those  who  have  had  experience  as  members 
of  any  deliberative  assembly,  know  by  that  experience  (what 
indeed  any  one  might  conjecture)  how  much  compromise  will 
usually  take  place  between  conflicting  opinions,  and  what  will 
naturally  thence  result.  One  person,  e.  g.,  will  urge  the  in- 
sertion of  something  which  another  disapproves;  and  the  re- 
sult will  usually  be,  after  much  debate,  something  of  what  is 
popularly  called  "  splitting  the  difference  :"  the  insertion  will 
be  made,  but  accompanied  with  such  limitations  and  modifi- 
cations as  nearly  to  ntillify  it.  A  fence  will  be  erected  in 
compliance  with  one  party,  and  a  gap  will  be  left  in  it  to 
gratify  another.  And  again,  there  will  often  be,  in  some 
document  of  this  class,  a  total  silence  on  some  point,  whereon, 
perhaps,  most  of  the  assembly  would  have  preferred  giving  a 
decision,  but  could  not  agree  what  decision  it  should  be. 

A  like  character  will  often  be  found  also  in  the  composition 
of  a  single  individual,  when  his  object  is  to  conciliate  several 
jtarties  whose  views  are  conflicting.  He  then  represents,  as 
it  were,  in  his  own  mind,  an  assembly  composed  of  those 
parties. 

Any  one,  therefore,  who  should  think  himself  bound,  in 
due  deference  for  the  collective  wisdom  of  some  august  as- 
sembly, to  interpret  any  joint  composition  of  it  exactly  as  he 
would  that  of  a  respectable  individual,  and  never  to  attribute 
to  it  any  thing  of  that  partially  inconsistent  and  almost  nu- 
gatory character  which  the  writings  of  a  sensible  and  upright 
man  would  be  exempt  from — any  one,  I  say,  who  should  pro- 
ceed (as  many  do)  on  such  a  principle,  would  be  often  greatly 
misled.* 

*  In  studying  the  Scriptiu*es,  we  must  be  on  our  guard  against  the 
converse  mistake,  of  interpreting  the  Bible  as  if  it  were  one  book, 
the  joint  work  of  the  sacred  writers,  instead  of,  what  it  is,  several 
distinct  books,  written  by  individuals  independently  of  each  other. 


120  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

It  may  be  added,  tliat  the  deference  due  to  the  decisions 
of  an  assembly  is  sometimes,  erroneously,  transferred  to  those 
of  some  individual  member  of  it;  that  is,  it  is  sometimes 
taken  for  granted  that  what  they  have,  jointly,  put  forth,  is 
to  be  interpreted  by  what  he,  in  his  own  writings,  may  have 
said  on  the  same  points.  And  yet  it  may  sometimes  be  the 
fact,  that  the  strong  expressions  of  his  sentiments  in  his  own 
writings  may  have  been  omitted  in  the  joint  production  of 
the  assembly,  precisely  because  not  approved  by  the  majority 
in  that  assembly. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  that  a  presumption  may  be  rebutted 
^  ^,  ,.  by  an  opposite  presumption,  so  as  to  shift  the 
the  burden  of  burden  of  proof  to  the  other  side.  E.  g. :  Sup- 
P^^*^^*  pose  you  had  advised  the  removal  of  some  exist- 

ing restriction  :  you  might  be,  in  the  first  instance,  called  on 
to  take  the  burden  of  proof,  and  allege  your  reasons  for  the 
change,  on  the  ground  that  there  is  a  presumption  against 
every  change.  But  you  might  fairly  reply,  "  True,  but  there 
is  another  presumption  which  rebuts  the  former :  every  re- 
striction is  in  itself  an  evil ;-  and  therefore  there  is  a  pre- 
sumption in  favor  of  its  removal,  unless  it  can  be  shown  ne- 
cessary for  prevention  of  some  greater  evil :  I  am  not  bound 
to  allege  any  specific  inconvenience  ;  if  the  restriction  is  un- 
necessary^ that  is  reason  enough  for  its  abolition  :  its  defend- 
ers therefore  are  fairly  called  on  to  prove  its  necessity. ^'"j" 

Again,  in  reference  to  the  prevailing  opinion,  that  the 
^^NathanaeV  of  John's  Gospel  was  the  same  person  as  the 
Apcstle  ^^ Bartholomew^'  mentioned  in  the  others,  an  intelli- 
gent friend  once  remarked  to  me  that  two  names  afford  a 
^'  prima  facie"  presumption  of  two  persons.  But  the  name 
of  i^artholomew,  being  a  "patronymic,''  (like  Simon  Peter's 
designation  jSar-Jona,  and  Joseph's  surname  of  ^arsabas, 
mentioned  in  Acts — he  being  probably  the  same  with  the 
Apostle  "Joseph  Barnabas,"  etc.,)  affords  a  counter-pre- 
sumption that  he  must  have  had  another  name,  to  distinguish 
him  from  his  own  kindred.  And  thus  we  are  left  open  to  the 
arguments  drawn  from  the  omission,  by  the  other  Evangel- 
ists, of  the  name  of  JSFathanael — evidently  a  very  eminent 

*  See  "Charges  and  other  Tracts,"  p.  447. 

t  See  Essay  II.,  "  On  the  Kingdom  of  Christ,"  I  33. 


CH.  III.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  121 

disciple — the  omission  by  John  of  the  name  of  the  Apostle 
J^artholomew,  and  the  recorded  intimacy  with  the  Apostle 
Philip. 

In  one  of  Lord  Dudley's  (lately  published)  letters  to 
Bishop  Copleston,  of  the  date  of  1814,  he  ad- 
duces a  presumption  against  the  science  of  Logic,  againsTfogS. 
that  it  was  sedulously  cultivated  during  the  dark 
periods  when  the  intellectual  powers  of  mankind  seemed 
nearly  paralyzed — when  no  discoveries  were  made,  and  when 
various  errors  were  wide-spread  and  deep-rooted^  and  that 
when  the  mental  activity  of  the  world  revived,  and  philo- 
sophical inquiry  flourished,  and  bore  its  fruits,  logical  studies 
fell  into  decay  and  contempt.  To  many  minds  this  would 
appear  a  decisive  argument.  The  author  himself  was  too 
acute  to  see  more  in  it  than — what  it  certainly  is — a  fair  pre- 
sumption. And  he  would  probably  have  owned  that  it  might 
be  met  by  a  counter-presumption.  ' 

When  any  science  or  pursuit  has  been  unduly  and  un- 
wisely followed,  to  the  neglect  of  others,  and  has 
even  been  intruded  into  their  province,  we  may  sump\toi?^^ 
presume  that  a  reaction  will  be  likely  to  ensue, 
and  an  equally  excessive  contempt,  or  dread,  or  abhorrence, 
to  succeed.*  And  the  same  kind  of  reaction  occurs  in  every 
department  of  life.  It  is  thus  that  the  thraldom  of  gross 
superstition  and  tyrannical  priestcraft  have  so  often  led  to 
irreligion.  It  is  thus  that  "several  valuable  medicines, 
which,  when  first  introduced,  were  proclaimed  each  as  a  pana- 
cea, infallible  in  the  most  opposite  disorders,  fell,  conse- 
quently, in  many  instances,  for  a  time,  into  total  disuse; 
though  afterwards  they  were  established  in  their  just  estima- 
tion, and  employed  conformably  to  their  real  properties.""]" 

So,  it  might  have  been  said,  in  the  present  case,  the  mis- 
taken and  absurd  cultivation  of  Logic  during  ages  of  great 
intellectual  darkness  might  be  expected  to  produce,  in  a  sub- 
sequent age  of  comparative  light,  an  association,  in  men's 
jninds,  of  Logic  with  the  idea  of  apathetic  ignorance,  preju- 
dice, and  adherence  to  error ;  so  that  the  legitimate  uses  and 

*  I  dwelt  on  this  subject  in  a  charge  to  the  Dioceses  of  Dublin, 
1843. 

f  Elements  of  Logic,  Preface,  p.  13. 


122  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

just  value  of  Logic,  supposing  it  to  have  any,  would  be  likely 
to  be  scornfully  overlooked.  Our  ancestors,  it  raiglit  have 
been  said,  having  neglected  to  raise  fresh  crops  of  corn,  and 
contented  themselves  with  vainly  threshing  over  and  over 
again  the  same  straw,  and  winnowing  the  same  chaff,  it  might 
be  expected  that  their  descendants  would,  for  a  time,  regard 
the  very  operations  of  threshing  and  winnowing  with  con- 
tempt, and  would  attempt  to  grind  corn,  chaff,  and  straw,  all 
together. 

Such  might  have  been,  at  that  time,  a  statement  of  the 
counter-presumptions  on  this  point. 

Subsequently,  the  presumption  in  question  has  been  com- 
pletely done  away.  And  it  is  a  curious  circum- 
Presumption    gtance  that  the  very  person  to  whom  that  letter 

overthrown.  'i  t    ■,  •  i 

was  addressed  should  nave  witnessed  so  great  a 
change  in  public  opinion — brought  about  (in  great  measure 
through  his  own  instrumentality)  within  a  small  portion  of 
the  short  interval  between  the  writing  of  that  letter  and  its 
publication — that  the  whole  ground  of  Lordr  Dudley's  argu- 
ment is  cut  away.  During  that  interval  the  article  on  Logic 
in  the  "  Encyclopaedia  Metropolitana"  (great  part  of  the 
matter  of  it  having  been  furnished  by  Bishop  Copleston)  was 
drawn  up ;  and  attracted  so  much  attention  as  to  occasion  its 
publication  in  a  separate  volume ;  and  this  has  been  repeat- 
edly reprinted  both  at  home  and  in  the  United  States  of 
America,  (where  it  is  used  as  a  text-book  in,  I  believe,  every 
college  throughout  the  Union,)  with  a  continually  increasing 
circulation,  which  all  the  various  attempts  made  to  decry  the 
study  seem  only  to  augment ;  while  sundry  abridgments,  and 
other  elementary  treatises  on  the  subject,  have  been  appear- 
ing with  continually  increased  frequency. 

Certainly,  Lord  Dudley,  were  he  no2v  living,  would  not 
speak  of  the  "  general  neglect  and  contempt'^  of  Logic  at 
present ;  though  so  many  branches  of  science,  philosophy, 
and  literature  have  greatly  flourished  during  the  interval. 

The  popularity  indeed,  or  unpopularity,  of  any  study,  does 
not  furnish,  alone,  a  decisive  proof  as  to  its  value ;  but  it  is 
plain  that  a  presumption — whether  strong  or  weak — which  is 
based  on  the  fact  of  general  neglect  and  contempt,  is  de- 
stroyed, when  these  have  ceased. 

It  has  been  alleged,  however,  that  ^'  the  science  of  mind" 


CH.  III.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  123 

has  not  flourished  during  the  last  twenty  years ;  and  that, 
consequently,  the  present  is  to  be  accounted  such  a  dark 
period  as  Lord  Dudley  alludes  to. 

Supposing  the  statement  to  be  well  founded,  it  is  nothing 
to  the  purpose;  since  Lord  Dudley  was  speaking,  not  of  any 
one  science  in  particular,  but  of  the  absence  or  presence  of 
intellectual  cultivation,  and  of  knowledge  generally  —  the 
depressed  or  flourishing  condition  of  science,  arts,  and  philo- 
sophy on  the  whole. 

But  as  for  the  state  of  the  "  science  of  mind"  at  any  given 
period,  that  is  altogether  a  matter  of  opinion.  It  was  pro- 
bably considered  by  the  Schoolmen  to  be  most  flourishing  in 
the  ages  which  we  call  "  dark."  And  it  is  not  unlikely  Uiat 
the  increased  attention  bestowed,  of  late  years,  on  Logic,  and 
the  diminished  popularity  of  those  metaphysicians  who  have 
written  against  it,  may  appear  to  the  disciples  of  these  last-a 
proof  of  the  low  state  (as  it  is,  to  logical  students,  a  sign  of 
the  improving  state)  of  "the  science  of  mind."  That  is, 
regarding  the  prevalence  at  present  of  logical  studies  as  a 
sign  that  ours  is  "a  dark  age,"  this  supposed  darkness,  again, 
furnishes  in  turn  a  sign  that  these  studies  flourish  only  in  a 
dark  age ! 

Again,  there  is  (according  to  the  old  maxim  of  "  peritis 
credcndum  est  in  arte  sua")  a  presumption,  (and 
a  fiiir  one,)  in  respect  of  each  question,  in  favor  fo^ancT^*'""^ 
of  the  judgment  of  the  most  eminent  men  in  the  against  the 
department  it  pertains  to  :  of  eminent  physicians,    ^'""'^^" 
e.  g.,  in  respect  of  medical  questions;    of   theologians,  in 
theological,  etc.     And  by  this  presumption  many  of  the  Jews 
in  our  Lord's  time  seem  to  have  been  influenced,  when  they 
said,  "Have  any  of  the  rulers  or  of  the  Pharisees  believed 
on  him  ?" 

But  there  is  a  counter-presumption,  arising  from  the  cir- 
cumstance that  men  eminent  in  any  department  are  likely  to 
regard  with  jealousy  any  one  who  professes  to  bring  to  light 
something  unknown  to  themselves;  especially  if  it  promise 
to  supersede,  if  established,  much  of  what  they  have  been 
accustomed  to  learn,  and  teach,  and  practice.  And  more- 
over, in  respect  of  the  medical  profession,  there  is  an  obvious 
danger  of  a  man's  being  regarded  as  a  dangerous  experi- 
mentalist who  adopts  any  novelty,  and  of  his  thus  losing 


124  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

practice  even  among  such  as  may  regard  him  with  admiration 
as  a  philosopher.  In  confirmation  of  this,  it  may  be  suf- 
ficient to  advert  to  the  cases  of  Harvey  and  Jenner.  Harvey's 
discovery  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood  is  said  to  have  lost 
him  most  of  his  practice,  and  to  have  been  rejected  by  every 
physician  in  Europe  above  the  age  of  forty.  And  Jenner's 
discovery  of  vaccination  had,  in  a  minor  degree,  similar 
results. 

There  is  also  this  additional  counter-presumption  against 
the  judgment  of  the  proficients  in  any  department :  that  they 
are  prone  to  a  bias  in  favor  of  every  thing  that  gives  the 
most  palpable  superiority  to  themselves  over  the  uninitiated, 
[the  idiotae,]  and  afi'ords  the  greatest  scope  for  the  employ- 
ment and  display  of  their  own  peculiar  acquirements.  Thus, 
e.  g.,  if  there  be  two  possible  interpretations  of  some  clause 
Ih  an  act  of  parliament,  one  of  which  appears  obvious  to 
every  reader  of  plain  good  sense,  and  the  other  can  be  sup- 
ported only  by  some  ingenious  and  far-fetched  legal  subtilty, 
a. practiced  lawyer  will  be-  liable  to  a  bias  in  favor  of  the 
latter,  as  setting  forth  the  more  prominently  his  own  peculiar 
qualifications.  And  on  this  principle  in  great  measure  seems 
founded  Bacon's  valuable  remark :  "  Harum  artium  ssepe 
pravus  fit  usus,  ne  sit  nullus."  Rather  than  let  their  know- 
ledge and  skill  lie  idle,  they  will  be  tempted  to  misapply 
them  :  like  a  schoolboy,  who,  when  possessed  of  a  knife,  is 
for  trying  its  edge  on  every  thing  that  comes  in  his  way. 
On  the  whole,  accordingly,  I  think  that  of  these  two  opposite 
presumptions,  the  counter-presumption  has  often  as  much 
weight  as  the  other,  and  sometimes  more. 

It  might  be  hastily  imagined  that  there  is  necessarily  an 
No  necessary  advantage  in  having  the  presumption  on  one's 
advantage  to  side,  and  the  burden  of  proof  on  the  adversary's. 
whif'hthepre-  But  it  is  often  much  the  reverse.  E.  g. :  "In 
sumption  lies.  ^^  other  instance  perhaps,"  (says  Dr.  Hawkins, 
in  his  valuable  "Essay  on  Tradition,")  "besides  that  of  re- 
ligion, do  men  commit  the  very  illogical  mistake,  of  first  can- 
vassing all  the  objections  against  any  particular  system  whose 
pretensions  to  truth  they  would  examine,  before, they  consider 
the  direct  arguments  in  its  favor."  (P.  82.)  But  why,  it 
may  be  asked,  do  they  make  such  a  mistake  in  this  case  ? 
An  answer  which  I  think  would  apply  to  a  large  proportion 


CH.  III.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  125 

of  such  persons,  is  this :  Because  a  man  having  been  brought 
up  in  a  Christian  country  has  lived  perhaps  among  such  as 
have  been  accustomed  from  their  infancy  to  take  for  granted 
the  truth  of  their  religion,  and  even  to  regard  an  uninquir- 
ing  assent  as  a  mark  of  commendable  faith;  and  hence  he 
has  probably  never  even  thought  of  proposing  to  himself  the 
question,  Why  should  I  receive  Christianity  as  a  Divine 
revelation  ?  Christianity  being  nothing  neio  to  him,  and  the 
presumption  being  in  favor  of  it,  while  the  burden  of  proof 
lies  on  its  opponents,  he  is  not  stimulated  to  seek  reasons  for 
believing  it,  till  he  j&nds  it  controverted.  And  when  it  is 
controverted — when  an  opponent  urges,  How  do  you  recon- 
cile this,  and  that,  and  the  other,  with  the  idea  of  a  Divine 
revelation  ?  these  objections  strike  by  their  novelty — by  their 
being  opposed  to  what  is  generally  received.  He  is  thus  ex- 
cited to  inquiry;  which  he  sets  about — naturally  enough,  but 
very  unwisely — by  seeking  for  answers  to  all  these  objections; 
and  fancies  that  unless  they  can  all  be  satisfactorily  solved, 
he  ought  not  to  receive  the  religion.*  "As  if  (says  the  author 
already  cited)  there  could  not  be  truth,  and  truth  supported 
by  irrefragable  arguments,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  obnoxious 
to  objections,  numerous,  plausible,  and  by  no  means  easy  of 
solution.^'  "  There  are  objections  (said  Dr.  Johnson)  against 
n plemim  and  objections  against  a  vacuum;  but  one  of  them 
must  be  true."  He  adds  that  "  sensible  men  really  desirous 
of  discovering  the  truth,  will  perceive  that  reason  directs 
th^m  to  examine  first  the  argument  in  favor  of  that  side  of 
the  question  where  the  first  presumption  of  truth  appears. 
And  the  presumption  is  manifestly  in  favor  of  that  religious 
creed  already  adopted  by  the  country.  .  .  .  Their  very  earliest 
inquiry,  therefore,  must  be  into  the  direct  arguments  for  the 
authority  of  that  book  on  which  their  country  rests  its  re- 
ligion." 

But  reasonable  as  such  a  procedure  is,  there  is,  as  I  have 
said,  a  strong  temptation,  and  one  which  should  be  carefully 
guarded  against,  to  adopt  the  opposite  course — to  attend  first 
to  the  objections  which  are  brought  against  what  is  estab- 

*  See  the  Lessons  on  Objections,  in  the  "Easy  Lessons  on  Chris- 
tian Evidences,"  (published  by  Parker,  West  Strand,  and  also  by  the 
Christian  Knowledge  Society.) 


126  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

listied,  and  which,  for  that  very  reason,  rouse  the  mind  from 
a  state  of  apathy.  Accordingly,  I  have  not  found  that  this 
"very  illogical  mistake"  is  by  any  means  peculiar  to  the  case 
of  religion. 

When  Christianity  was  first  preached,  the  state  of  things 
was  reversed.  The  presumption  was  against  it,  as  being  a 
novelty.  "  Seeing  that  these  things  cannot  he  ^'pohen  against, 
ye  ought  to  be  quiet,''  was  a  sentiment  which  favored  an  in- 
dolent acquiescence  in  the  old  Pagan  worship.  The  stimulus 
of  novelty  was  all  on  the  side  of  those  who  came  to  overthrow 
this,  by  a  new  religion.  The  first  inquiry  of  any  one  who  at 
all  attended  to  the  subject  must  have  been,  not.  What  are 
the  objections  to  Christianity  ?  but,  On  what  grounds  do  these 
men  call  on  me  to  receive  them  as  Divine  messengers  ?  And 
the  same  appears  to  be  the  case  with  those  Polynesians  among 
whom  our  missionaries  are  laboring  :  tliey  begin  by  inquiring, 
^''  Why  should  we  receive  this  religion  V  And  those  of  them 
accordingly  who  have  embraced  it,  appear  to  be  Christians 
on  a  much  more  rational  and  deliberate  conviction  than  many 
among  us,  even  of  those  who,  in  general  maturity  of  intellect 
an4  civilization,  are  advanced  considerably  beyond  those 
Islanders. 

I  am  not  depreciating  the  inestimable  advantages  of  a  re- 
ligious education,  but  pointing  out  the  peculiar  temptations 
which  accompany  it.  The  Jews  and  Pagans  had,  in  their 
early  prejudices,  greater  difficulties  to  surmount  than  ours; 
but  they  were  difficulties  of  a  different  Icind.^ 

Thus  much  may  suffice  to  show  the  importance  of  taking 
this  preliminary  view  of  the  state  of  each  question  to  be  dis- 
cussed. 


Matters  of  opinion  (as  they  are  called ;  i.  e.,  where  we  are 
Matters  of  ^^^^  ^^^^  properly  to  hnow,  but  to  judge,  see  Ch. 
fact  and  of  H.,  §  4)  are  established  chiefly  by  antecedent 
opinion.  probability ;  [arguments  of  the  first  class,  viz., 

from  cause  to  effect;]  though  the  testimony  (i.  e.,  authority) 
of  wise  men  is  also  admissible :  past  facts,  chiefly  by  signs, 
of  various  kinds;  (that  term,  it  must  be  remembered,  in- 

*  Logic,  Appendix. 


CH.  III.,  §  3.]  CONVICTION.  127 

eluding  testimony :)  and  future  events,  by  antecedent  proba- 
bilities, and  examples. 

Example,  however,  is  not  excluded  from  tlie  proof  of  mat- 
ters of  opinion;  since  a  man's  judgment  in  one  case  may  be 
aided  or  corrected  by  an  appeal  to  his  judgment  in  another 
similar  case.  It  is  in  this  way  that  we  are  directed,  by  the 
highest  authority,  to  guide  our  judgment  in  those  questions 
in  which  we  are  most  liable  to  deceive  ourselves )  viz.,  what, 
on  each  occasion,  ought  to  be  our  conduct  towards  another : 
we  are  directed  to  frame  for  ourselves  a  similar  supposed  case, 
by  imagining  x)urselves  to  change  places  with  our  neighbor, 
and  tlien  considering  how,  in  that  case,  we  should  in  fairness 
expect  to  be  treated. 

This,  however,  which  is  the  true  use  of  the  celebrated  pre- 
cept "  to  do  as  we  would  be  done  by,"  is  often  overlooked ;  and 
it  is  spoken  of  as  if  it  were  a  rule  designed  to  supersede  all 
other  moral  maxims,  and  to  teach  us  the  intrinsic  character 
of  right  and  wrong.  This  absurd  mistake  may  be  one  cause 
why  the  precept  is  so  much  more  'talked  of  than  attempted  to 
be  applied.  For  it  could  not  be  applied  with  any  good  re- 
sult by  one  who  should  have  no  notions  already  formed  of 
what  is  just  and  unjust.  To  take  one  instance  out  of  many : 
if  he  had  to  decide  a  dispute  between  two  of  his  neighbors, 
he  would  be  sure  that  each  was  wishing  for  a  decision  in  his 
own  favor ;  and  he  would  be  at  a  loss  therefore  how  to  comply 
with  the  precept  in  respect  of  either,  without  violating  it  in 
respect  ^  of  the  other.  The  true  meaning  of  the  precept 
plainly  is,  that  you  should  do  to  another  not  necessarily  what 
you  would  whh^  but  what  you  would  expect  as  fair  and  reason- 
able, if  you  were  in  his  place.  This  evidently  presupposes 
that  you  have  a  knowledge  of  what  is  fjiir  and  reasonable ; 
and  the  precept  then  furnishes  a  formula  for  the  application 
of  this  knowledge  in  a  case  where  you  would  be  liable  to  be 
blinded  by  self-partiality. 

A  very  good  instance  of  an  argument  drawn  from  a  "par- 
allel case"  in  which  most  men's  judgments  would  lead  them 
aright,  I  have  met  with  in  a  memou*  of  Roger  Williams,  a 
settler  in  North  America  in  the  seventeenth  century,  who 
was  distinguished  as  a  zealous  missionary  among  the  Indians, 
and  also  as  an  advocate  of  the  then  unpopular  doctrine  of  re- 
ligious liberty : 


128  ELEMENTS   OF  RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

^^He  was  at  all  times  and  under  all  changes  the  undaunted 
champion  of  religious  freedom.  It  was  speedily  professed  by 
him  on  his  arrival  among  those  who  sought  in  America  a 
refuge  from  persecution ;  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  it  was 
probably  the  first  thing  that  excited  the  prejudices  of  the 
Massachusetts  and  Plymouth  rulers  against  him.  He  was 
accused  of  carrying  this  favorite  doctrine  so  far,  as  to  exempt 
from  punishment  any  criminal  who  pleaded  conscience.  But 
let  his  own  words  exculpate  him  from  this  charge  :  '  That 
ever  I  should  speak  or  write  a  tittle  that  tends  to  such  an  in- 
finite liberty  of  conscience,  is  a  mistake,  and  which  I  have 
ever  disclaimed  and  abhorred.  To  prevent  such  mistakes,  I 
at  present  shall  only  propose  this  case.  There  goes  many  a 
ship  to  sea  with  many  hundred  souls  in  one  ship,  whose  weal 
and  woe  is  common  ;  and  is  a  true  picture  of  a  commonwealth, 
or  an  human  combination  or  society.  It  hath  fallen  out, 
sometimes,  that  both  Papists  and  Protestants,  Jews  and  Turks, 
may  be  embarked  into  one  ship.  Upon  which  supposal  I  affirm 
that  all  the  liberty  of  conscience  that  ever  I  pleaded  for  turns 
upon  these  two  hinges,  that  none  of  the  Papists,  Protestants, 
Jews,  or  Turks  be  forced  to  come  to  the  ship's  prayers,  nor 
compelled  from  their  own  particular  prayers  or  worship,  if 
they  practice  any.  I  further  add,  that  I  never  denied  that, 
notwithstanding  this  liberty,  the  commander  of  the  ship 
ought  to  command  the  ship's  course;  yea,  and  also  command 
that  justice,  peace,  and  sobriety  be  kept  and  practiced  both 
among  the  seamen  and  all  the  passengers.  If  any  of  the  sea- 
men refuse  to  perform  their  service,  or  passengers  to  pay 
their  freight;  if  any  refuse  to  help,  in  person  or  purse, 
towards  the  common  charges  or  defence ;  if  any  refuse  to 
obey  the  common  laws  and  order  of  the  ship  concerning  their 
common  peace  and  preservation ;  if  any  shall  mutiny  and 
rise  up  against  their  commanders  and  officers;  if  any  should 
preach  or  write  that  there  ought  to  be  no  commanders  or 
officers,  because  all  are  equal  in  Christ,  therefore  no  masters 
nor  officers,  no  laws  nor  orders,  no  corrections  nor  punish- 
ments, I  say  I  never  denied  but  in  such  cases,  whatever  is 
pretended,  the  commander  or  commanders  may  judge,  resist, 
compel,  and  punish  such  transgressors,  according  to  their 
deserts  and  merits.' " 

It  happens  more  frequently  than  not,  however,  that  when, 


CH.  III.,  §  3.]  CONVICTION.  '  129 

in  the  discussion  of  matters  of  opinion,  an  ex- 
ample is  introduced,  it  is  designed,  not  for  argu-  cxaiifpies?^^ 
ment,  but,  strictly  speaking,  for  illustration  ;  not 
to  2^rove  the  proposition  in  question,  but  to  make  it  more 
clearly  understood:  c.  g.,  the  proposition  maintained  by 
Cicero  {de  Off.,  Book  III.)  is  what  may  be  accounted  a  mat- 
ter of  opinion ;  viz.,  that  "nothing  is  expedient  which  is  dis- 
honorable :''  when  then  he  adduces  the  example  of  the  sup- 
posed design  of  Themistocles  to  burn  the  allied  fleet,  which 
he  maintains,  in  contradiction  to  Aristides,  would  have  been 
inexpedient,  because  unjust,  it  is  manifest  that  we  must 
understand  the  instance  brought  forward  as  no  more  than  an 
illustration  of  the  general  principle  he  intends  to  establish ; 
since  it  would  be  a  plain  begging  of  the  question  to  argue 
from  a  particular  assertion,  which  could  only  be  admitted  by 
those  who  assented  to  the  general  principle. 

It  is  important  to  distinguish  between  these  two  uses  of 
example ;  that,  on  the  one  hand,  we  may  not  be  led  to  mis- 
take for  an  argument  such  a  one  as  the  foregoing ;  and  that, 
on  the  other  hand,  we  may  not  too  hastily  charge  with 
sophistry  him  who  adduces  such  a  one  simply  with  a  view  to 
explanation. 

Our  Lord's  parables  are  mostly  of  the  explanatory  kind. 
His  discourses  generally,  indeed,  are  but  little  argumentative. 
^'  He  taught  as  one  having  authority ','  stating  and  explain- 
ing his  doctrines,  and  referring  for  'proof  to  his  actions : 
''The  icorks  that  I  do  in  my  Father's  name,  they  bear  wit- 
ness of  me." 

It  is  also  of  the  greatest  consequence  to  distinguish  be- 
tween examples  (of  the  invented  kind)  properly  iii„gtration 
so  called — i.  e.,  which  have  the  force  of  argu-  ''^"fi  simile 

_,  J  .  'ij  ii?-i  distinoruished. 

ments — and  comparisons  introduced  lor  the  orna- 
ment  of  style,  in  the  form,  either  of  simile,  as  it  is  called,  or 
metaphor.  Not  only  is  an  ingenious  comparison  often  mis- 
taken for  a  proof,  though  it  be  such  as,  when  tried  by  the 
rules  laid  down  here  and  in  the  treatise  on  Logic,  affords  no 
proof  at  all  ;*  but  also,  on  the  other  hand,  a  real  and  valid 


*  The  pleasure  derived  from  takino;  in  the  author's  meaning  when 
an  ingenious  comparison  is  employed,  (referred  by  Aristotle  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  act  of  learning,)  is  so  great,  that  the  reader  or  hearer 
5 


130  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

argument  is  not  unfrequently  considered  merely  as  an  orna- 
ment of  style,  if  it  happen  to  be  sucli  as  to  produce  that 
effect ;  though  there  is  evidently  no  reason  why  that  should 
not  b(3  fair  analogical  reasoning,  in  which  the  new  idea  in- 
troduced by  the  analogy  chances  to  be  a  sublime  or  a  pleasing 
one.  E.  g.  :  "The  eflBcacy  of  penitence,  and  piety,  and 
prayer,  in  rendering  the  Deity  propitious,  is  not  irreconcilable 
with  the  immutability  of  his  nature,  and  the  steadiness  of  his 
purposes.  It  is  not  in  man's  power  to  alter  the  course  of  the 
sun ;  but  it  is  often  in  his  power  to  cause  the  sun  to  shine  or 
not  to  shine  upon  him  :  if  he  withdraws  frojn  its  beams,  or 
spreads  a  curtain  before  him,  the  sun  no  longer  shines  on 
him ;  if  he  quits  the  shade,  or  removes  the  curtain,  the  light 
is  restored  to  him ;  and  though  no  change  is  in  the  mean- 
time effected  in  the  heavenly  luminary,  but  only  in  himself, 
the  result  is  the  same  as  if  it  were.  Nor  is  the  immutability 
of  God  any  reason  why  the  returning  sinner,  who  tears  away 
the  veil  of  prejudice  or  of  indifference,  should  not  again  be 
blessed  with  the  sunshine  of  Divine  favor.'''  The  image  here 
introduced  is  ornamental,  but  the  argument  is  not  the  less 
perfect;  since  the  case  adduced  fairly  establishes  the  general 
principle  required,  that  ''a  change  effected  in  one  of  two 
objects  having  a  certain  relation  to  each  other,  rflay  have  the 
same  practical  result  as  if  it  had  taken  place  in  the  other.'^* 
The  mistake  in  question  is  still  more  likely  to  occur  when 
such  an  argument  is  conveyed  in  a  single  term  employed 
metaphorically  ;  as  is  generally  the  case  where  the  allusion  is 
common  and  obvious  :  e.  g.,  "We  do  not  receive  as  the  gen- 
uine doctrines  of  the  primitive  Church  what  have  passed 
down  t\\Q. polluted  stream  of  tradition."  The  argument  here 
is  not  the  less  valid  for  being  conveyed  in  the  form  of  a  meta- 
phor.")' 

is  apt  to  mistake  liis  apprehension  of  this  for  a  perception  of  a  just 
and  convincing  analogy.  See  Part  III.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  3.  See  Appendix 
[F]  for  two  instances  of  "explanatory  illustration,"  both  of  them 
highly  ornamental  also. 

*  For  an  instance  of  a  highly  beautiful,  and  at  the  same  time  argu- 
mentative comparison,  see  Appendix,  [G.]  It  appears  to  me  -that 
the  passage  printed  in  italics  affords  a  reason  for  thinking  it  probable 
that  the  causes  of  the  apostles'  conduct  are  rightly  assigned. 

t  See  Part  III.,  ch.  ii.,  g  4. 


CH.  III.,  §  4.]  CONVICTION.  131 

The  employment,  in  questions  relatina:  to  the  future,  both 
of  the  argument  from  example,  and  of  that  from  cause  to 
effect,  may  be  explained  from  what  has  been  already  said  con- 
cerning the  connection  between  them ;  some  cause,  whether 
known  or  not,  being  always  siijyposed,  whenever  an  example 
is  adduced. 

§4. 

When  arguments  of  each  of  the  two  formerly  mentioned 
classes  are  employed,  those  from  cause  to  effect   Arguments 
(antecedent  probability)  have  usually  the  prece-   from  cause  to 

(lonPP  ^1  effect  have 

ui.iiuu.  ^Ijg  prece- 

Men  are  apt  to  listen  with  prejudice  to  the  thence, 
arguments  adduced  to  prove  any  thing  which  appears  ah- 
stractcdJi/  improbable;  i.  e.,  according  to  what  has  been 
above  laid  down,  minntural,  or  (if  such  an  expression  might 
be  allowed)  mqilausihle  ;  and  this  prejudice  is  to  be  removed 
by  the  argument  from  cause  to  effect,  which  thus  prepares 
the  way  for  the  reception  of  the  other  arguments.  E.  g. :  If 
a  man  who  bore  a  good  character  were  accused  of  corruption, 
the  strongest  evidence  against  him  might  avail  little ;  but  if 
he  were  proved  to  be  of  a  covetous  disposition,  this,  though 
it  would  not  alone  be  allowed  to  substantiate  the  crime,  would 
have  great  weight  in  inducing  his  judges  to  lend  an  ear  to 
the  evidence.  And  thus  in  what  relates  to  the  future  also, 
the  d  f>riori  argument  and  example  support  each  other,  when 
thus  used  in  conjunction,  and  in  the  order  prescribed.  A 
sufficient  cause  being  established,  leaves  us  still  at  liberty  to 
suppose  that  there  may  be  circumstances  which  will  prevent 
the  effect  from  taking  place;  but  examples  subjoined  show 
that  these  circumstances  do  not,  at  least  always,  prevent  that 
effect.  On  the  other  hand,  examples  introduced  at  the  first, 
may  be  suspected  (unless  they  are  very  numerous)  of  being 
exceptions  to  the  general  rule,  instead  of  being  instances  of 
it;  which  an  adequate  cause  previously  assigned  will  show 
them  to  be.  E.  g.  :  If  any  one  had  argued,  from  the  temp- 
tations and  opportunities  occurring  to  a  military  commander, 
that  Buonaparte  was  likely  to  establish  a  despotism  on  the 
ruins  of  the  French  Republic,  this  argument,  by  itself,  would 
have  left  men  at  liberty  to  suppose  that  such  a  result  would 
be  prevented  by  a  jealous  attachment  to  liberty  in  the  citi- 


132  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

zens,  and  a  fellow-feeling  of  the  soldiery  with  them ;  then, 
the  examples  of  Caesar  and  of  Cromwell  would  have  proved 
that  such  preventives  are  not  to  be  trusted. 

Aristotle  accordingly  has  remarked  on  the  expediency  of 
not  placing  examples  in  the  foremost  rank  of  arguments ;  in 
which  case,  he  says,  a  considerable  number  would  be  requi- 
site ;  whereas,  in  confirmation,  even  one  will  have  much 
weight.  This  observation,  however,  he  omits  to  extend,  as 
he  might  have  done,  to  testimony  and  every  other  kind  of 
sign,  to  which  it  is  no  less  applicable. 

Another  reason  for  adhering  to  the  order  here  prescribed 
is,  that  if  the  argument  from  cause  to  effect  were  placed  after 
the  others,  a  doubt  might  often  exist,  whether  we  were  en- 
gaged in  2^^ovi7ig  the  point  in  question,  or  (assuming  it  as 
already  proved)  in  seeking  only  to  account  for  it;  that  argu- 
ment being,  by  the  very  nature  of  it,  such  as  would  account 
for  the  truth  contended  for,  supposing  it  were  granted.  Con- 
stant care,  therefore,  is  requisite  to  guard  against  any  confu- 
sion or  indistinctness  as  to  the  object  in  each  case  proposed; 
whether  that  be,  when  a  proposition  is  admitted,  to  assign  a 
cause  which  does  account  for  it,  (which  is  one  of  the  classes 
of  propositions  formerly  noticed,)  or,  when  it  is  not  admitted, 
to  prove  it  by  an  argument  of  that  kind  which  would  account 
for  it,  if  it  were  granted. 

With  a  view  to  the  arrangement  of  arguments,  no  rule  is 
of  more  importance  than  the  one  now  under  consideration ; 
and  arrangement  is  a  more  important  point  than  is  generally 
supposed ;  indeed,  it  is  not  perhaps  of  less  consequence  in 
composition  than  in  the  military  art;  in  which  it  is  well 
known,  that  with  an  equality  of  forces,  in  numbers,  courage, 
and  every  other  point,  the  manner  in  which  they  are  drawn 
up,  so  as  either  to  afford  mutual  support,  or,  on  the  other 
hand,  even  to  impede  and  annoy  each  other,  may  make  the 
difference  of  victory  or  defeat.* 

*  A  great  advantage  in  this  point  is  possessed  by  the  speaker  over 
the  writer.  The  speaker  compels  his  hearers  to  consider  the  several 
points  brought  before  them,  in  the  order  which  he  thinks  best. 
Readers,  on  the  contrary,  will  sometimes,  by  dipping  into  a  book  or 
examining  the  table  of  contents,  light  on  something  so  revolting  to 
some  prejudice,  that,  though  they  might  have  admitted  the  proofs  of 
it  if  they  had  read  in  the  order  designed,  they  may  at  once  close  the 
book  in  disgust. 


CH.  III.,  §  4.]  '  CONVICTION.  183 

E.  g. :  In  the  statement  of  the  evidences  of  our  religion, 
so  as  to  give  them  their  just  weight,  much  depends  on  the 
order  in  which  they  are  placed.  The  antecedent  prohability 
that  a  revelation  should  be  given  to  man,  and  that  it  should 
be  established  by  miracles,  all  would  allow  to  be,  considered 
by  itself,  in  the  absence  of  strong  direct  testimony,  utterly 
insufficient  to  establish  the  conclusion.  On  the  other  hand, 
miracles  considered  abstractedly,  as  represented  to  have 
occurred  without  any  occasion  or  reason  for  them  being 
assigned,  carry  with  them  such  a  strong  intrinsic  improba- 
bility as  could  not  be  wholly  surmounted  even  by  such  evi- 
dence as  would  fully  establish  any  other  matters  of  fact.  But 
the  evidences  of  the  former  class,  however  inefficient  alone 
towards  the  establishment  of  the  conclusion,  have  very  great 
weight  in  preparing  the  mind  for  receiving  the  other  argu- 
ments;  which,  again,  though  they  would  be  listened  to  with 
prejudice  if  not  so  supported,  will  then  be  allowed  their  just 
weight.  The  writers  in  defence  of  Christianity  have  not 
always  attended  to  this  principle ;  and  their  opponents  have 
often  availed  themselves  of  the  knowledge  of  it,  by  combat- 
ing in  detail,  arguments,  the  combined  force  of  which  would 
have  been  irresistible.*  They  argue  respecting  the  credi- 
bility of  the  Christian  miracles  abstractedly,  as  if  they  were 
insulated  occurrences,  without  any  known  or  conceivable 
purpose;  as,  e.  g.,  "What  testimony  is  sufficient  to  establish 
the  belief  that  a  dead  man  was  restored  to  life  ?"  and  then 
they  proceed  to  show  that  the  probability  of  a  revelation,  ab- 
stractedly considered,  is  not  such  at  least  as  to  establish  the 
fact  that  one  has  been  given.  Whereas,  if  it  were  Jirst  proved 
(as  may  easily  be  done)  merely  tlyit  there  is  no  such  abstract 
improbability  of  a  revelation  as  to  exclude  the  evidence  in 
favor  of  it,  and  that  if  one  icerc  given,  it  must  be  expected 
to  be  supported  by  miraculous  evidence,  then,  just  enough 
reason  would  be  assigned  for  the  occurrence  of  miracles,  not 
indeed  to  establish  them,  but  to  allow  a  fair  hearing  for  the 
arguments  by  which  they  are  supported. •j" 

The  importance  attached  to  the  arrangement  importance 
of  aro;uments  by  the  two  e:reat  rival  orators  of  of  arrange- 
Athens,    may   serve    to    illustrate    and    enforce 

*  See  g  4,  Cli.  II.  f  See  Paley's  Evidences,  Introd. 


134  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

what  has  been  said.  iEsehines  strongly  urged  the  judges  (in 
the  celebrated  contest  concerning  the  crown)  to  confine  his 
adversary  to  the  same  order,  in  his  reply  to  the  charges 
brought,  which  he  himself  had  observed  in  bringing  them 
forward.  Demosthenes,  however,  was  far  too  skilful  to  be 
thus  entrapped ;  and  so  much  importance  does  he  attach  to 
this  point,  that  he  opens  his  speech  with  a  most  solemn  appeal 
to  the  judges  for  an  impartial  hearings  which  implies,  he 
says,  not  only  a  rejection  of  prejudice,  but  no  less,  also,  a 
permission  for  each  speaker  to  adopt  whatever  arrangement 
he  should  think  fit.  And  accordingly  he  proceeds  to  adopt 
one  very  different  from  that  which  his  antagonist  had  laid 
down  ',  for  he  was  no  less  sensible  than  his  rival,  that  the 
same  arrangement  which  is  the  most  favorable  to  one  side  is 
likely  to  be  the  least  favorable  to  the  other. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  however,  that  the  rules  which  have 
been  given  respecting  the  order  in  which  different  kinds  of 
argument  should  be  arranged,  relate  only  to  the  different 
kinds  adduced  in  support  of  each  separate  proposition ;  since, 
of  course,  the  refutation  of  an  opposed  assertion,  effected 
(suppose)  by  means  of  "signs,"  may  be  followed  by  an  "cl 
priori"  argument  in  favor  of  our  own  conclusion;  and  the 
like  in  many  other  such  cases. 

§5- 

A  proposition  that  is  loell  known,  (whether  easy  to  be 

established  or  not,)  and  which  contains  nothing 

premises  and   particularly  offensive,  should  in  general  be  stated 

^llf-^,!te„       at  once,  and  the  proofs  subioined ;  but  one  not 

conclusion  ^    ^      '  ,  X^  •     n        •«    •        ■%  ^•^       ^ 

should  come  familiar  to  the, hearers,  especially  if  it  be  likely 
to  be  unacceptable,  should  not  be  stated  at  the 
outset.  It  is  usually  better  in  that  case  to  state  the  argu- 
ments first,  or  at  least  some  of  them,  and  then  introduce  the 
conclusion  :  thus  assuming  in  some  degree  the  character  of 
an  investigator. 

There  is  no  question  relating  to  arrangement  more  import- 
ant than  the  present ;  and  it  is,  therefore,  the  more  unfor- 
tunate that  Cicero,  who  possessed  so  much  practical  skill, 
should  have  laid  down  no  rule  on  this  point,  (though  it  is  one 
which  evidently  had  engaged  his  attention,)  but  should  con- 
tent himself  with  saying  that  sometimes  he  adopted  the  one 


CII.  III.,  §  5.]  CONVICTION.  135 

mode,  and  sometimes  the  other,*  (which  doubtless  he  did  not 
do  at  random,)  without  distinguishing  the  cases  in  which  each 
is  to  be  preferred,  and  laying  down  principles  to  guide  our 
decision.  Aristotle  also,  when  he  lays  down  the  two  great 
heads  into  which  a  speech  is  divisible,  the  proposition  and 
the  proof, f  is  equally  silent  as  to  the  order  in  which  they 
should  be  placed ;  though  he  leaves  it  to  be  understood,  from 
his  manner  of  speaking,  that  the  conclusion  [or  question]  is 
to  be  first  stated,  and  then  the  premises,  as  in  Mathematics. 
This  indeed  is  the  usual  and  natural  way  of  speaking  or 
writing :  viz.,  to  begin  by  declaring  your  opinion,  and  then 
to  subjoin  the  reasons  for  it.  But  there  are  many  occasions 
on  which  it  will  be  of  the  highest  consequence  to  reverse 
this  plan.  It  will  sometimes  give  an  ofiensively  dogmatical 
air  to  a  composition,  to  begin  by  advancing  some  new  and 
unexpected  assertion ;  though  sometimes,  again,  this  may  be 
advisable  when  the  arguments  are  such  as  can  be  well  relied 
on,  and  the  principal  object  is  to  excite  attention  and  awaken 
curiosity.  And  accordingly,  with  this  view,  it  is  not  unusual 
to  present  some  doctrine,  by  no  means  really  novel,  in  a  new 
and  paradoxical  shape.  But  when  the  conclusion  to  be  estab- 
lished is  one  likely  to  hurt  the  feelings  and  oifend  the  preju- 
dices of  the  hearers,  it  is  essential  to  keep  out  of  sight,  as 
much  as  possible,  the  point  to  which  we  are  tending,  till  the 
principles  from  which  it  is  to  be  deduced  shall  have  been 
clearly  established;  because  men  listen  with  prejudice,  if  at 
all,  to  arguments  that  are*  avowedly  leading  to  a  conclusion 
which  they  are  indisposed  to  admit ;  whereas,  if  we  thus,  as 
it  were,  mask  the  battery,  they  will  not  be  able  to  shelter 
themselves  from  the  discharge.  The  observance,  accordingly, 
or  neglect  of  this  rule,  will  often  make  the  difi'erence  of 
success  or  failure. | 

It  may  be  observed,  that  if  the  proposition  to  be  main- 
tained be  such  as  the  hearers  are  likely  to  regard  as  insu/nifi- 
carU,  the  question  should  be  at  first  suppressed ;  but  if  there 

*  De  Orat. 

t  Rhct.,  Book  III. 

j  See  note  in  g  4.  It  may  be  added,  that  it  is  not  only  nothing 
dishonest,  but  is  a  point  of  pacific  charitableness  as  well  as  of  discre- 
tion, in  any  discussion  with  any  one,  to  begin  with  points  of  agree- 
ment rather  than  of  disagreement. 


136  ELEMENTS   OF  'RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

be  any  thing  offensive  to  their  prejudices,  the  question  may 
be  stated,  but  the  decision  of  it,  for  a  time,  kept  back. 

And  it  will  often  be  advisable  to  advance  very  p:radually  to 
the  full  statement  of  the  proposition  required, 
SSement  of  and  to  prove  it,  if  one  may  so  speak,  by  instal- 
tiie  conciu-  ments;  establishing  separately,  and  in  order,  each 
part  of  the  truth  in  question.  It  is  thus  that 
Aristotle  establishes  many  of  his  doctrines,  and  among  others 
his  definition  of  happiness,  in  the  beginning  of  the  Nicoma- 
cliean  Ethics :  he  first  proves  in  what  it  does  not  consist,  and 
then  establishes,  one  by  one,  the  several  points  which  to- 
gether constitute  his  notion. 

Thus,  again,  Paley  (in  his  Evidences)  first  proves  that  the 
apostles,  etc.,  siffered;  next,  that  they  encountered  their 
sufferings  knowingJi/ ;  then,  that  it  was  for  their  testimony 
that  they  suffered ;  then,  that  the  events  they  testified  were 
niiracidous ;  then,  that  those  events  were  the  same  as  are 
recorded  in  our  books,  etc.,  etc. 

In  public  meetings  the  measure  ultimately  adopted  will 
Resolutions  usually  have  been  proposed  in  a  series  of  resolu- 
at  public  tions  ;  each  of  which  successively  will  perhaps 
meetings.  ^aye  been  carried  by  a  large  majority,  in  cases 
where,  if  the  whole  had  been  proposed  in  a  mass,  it  would 
have  been  rejected — some  persons  feeling  objections  to  one 
portion,  and  others  to  another. 

It  will  often  happen,  again,  that  some  general  principle  of 
no  very  paradoxical  character  may  be  proposed 
Advance  in  the  outset;  (just  as  besiegers  break  ground  at 

to^^rtfcuiar.  a  safe  distance,  and  advance  gradually  till  near 
enough  to  batter;)  and  when  that  is  established, 
an  unexpected  and  univelcome  application  of  it  may  be  proved 
irresistibly. 

And  it  may  be  worth  observing,  that  we  shall  thus  have  to 
reverse,  in  many  cases,  the  order  in  which,  during  the  act  of 
composition,  the  thoughts  will  have  occurred  to  our  minds. 
For  in  reflecting  on  any  subject,  we  are  usually  disposed  to 
generalize — to  proceed  from  the  particular  point  immediately 
before  us,  successively,  to  more  and  more  comprehensive 
views ;  the  opposite  order  to  which  will  usually  be  the  better 
adapted  to  engage  and  keep  up  attention,  and  to  effect  con- 
viction.    E.  g. :  Suppose  I  am  thinking  of  engaging  the  co- 


CII.  III.,  §  5.]  CONVICTION.  137 

operation  of  tlie  laity  in  some  measure  designed  for  the  dif- 
fusion of  the  gospel,  which  they  are  perhaps  disposed  to  re- 
gard too  much  as  the  business  of  the  clergy  exclusively : 
this  may  lead  me  to  reflect,  generally,  how  prone  laymen  are 
in  many  points  to  confound  Christian  duties  with  clerical 
duties,  and  to  speak  and  act  as  if  they  thought  that  a  less 
amount  of  Christian  virtue  were  amply  sufficient  for  those 
who  have  not  taken  holy  orders ;  and  tliis  again  might  carry 
me  on  to  reflect  yet  more  generally,  on  the  prevalent  error  of 
imairining  two  kinds  of  Christianity,  one  for  a  certain  select 
and  preeminent  few,  and  the  other  for  the  generality ;  and  of 
supposing  that  those  whom  in  latter  ages  it  has  been  custom- 
ary to  denominate  *'  saints,"*  namely,  the  apostles,  evangelists, 
and  others,  who  possessed  inspiration,  and  other  miraculous 
gifts,  (such  as  Judas,  among  others,  exercised,)  had  a  degree 
of  personal  holiness,  and  a  kind  of  Christian  character,  be- 
yond what  is  at  all  expected  of  Christians  generally,  and 
which  it  would  be  even  presumptuous  for  us  to  emulate. 

Now  to  bring  forward  these  topics  in  this  order  would  not 
produce  so  good  an  effect  as  to  reverse  it :  beginniDg  with 
the  more  general  remarks,  and  gradually  narrowing,  as  it 
were,  the  circle,  till  the  particular  point  in  question  was 
reached.  The  interest  is  the  better  kept  up  by  advancing 
successively  from  the  more  to  the  less  general ;  and  more- 
over, as  has  been  just  remarked,  the  establishment  of  some 
general  principle  will  in  many  cases  be  less  unwelcome,  and 
more  fairly  listened  to,  than  the  particular  application  of  it. 

It  is  often  expedient,  sometimes  unavoidable,  to  icaive  for 
the  present  some  question  or  portion  of  a  ques- 
tion, while  our  attention  is  occupied  with  another  ques^'i'on.^ 
point.  Now  it  cannot  be  too  carefully  kept  in 
mind,  that  it  is  a  common  mistake  with  inaccurate  reasoners 
(and  a  mistake  which  is  studiously  kept  up  by  an  artful  so- 
phist) to  suppose  that  what  is  thus  ivaived  is  altogether  giveii 
wp.f     "  Such  a  one  does  not  attempt  to  prove  this  or  that;" 

f  The  term  by  which  all  Christians  are  denoted  in  Scripture. 

i  An  instance  of  this  procedure  is  noticed  in  the  Essay  on  Perse- 
cution, (3d  Series,)  Note  A.  The  writer  I  am  there  speaking  of 
*' proceeds  to  censure,  not  merely  the  enemies  of  a  religious  estab- 
lishment, but  also  some  of  'those  who  admit  the  lawfulness  and  ne- 
cessity of  an  establishment;'  including,  particularly,   Warburton  ; 


138  ELEMENTS    OF    RHETORIC.  [PART    I. 

"  He  does  not  deny  so  and  so ;"  "  He  tacitly  admits  that  such 
and  such  may  be  the  case;"  etc.,  are  expressions  which  one 
may  often  hear  triumphantly  employed,  on  no  better  grounds. 
And  yet  it  is  very  common  in  Mathematics  for  a  question  to 
be  waived  in  this  manner.  Euclid,  e.  g.,  first  asserts  and 
proves  that  the  exterior  angle  of  a  triangle  is  greater  than 
either  of  the  interior  opposite  angles — without  being  able  to 
determine  at  once  how  much  greater — and  that  any  two  an- 
gles of  a  triangle  are  less  than  two  right  angles ;  limiving  for 
the  present  the  question,  how  much  less.  He  is  enabled  to 
prove,  at  a  more  advanced  stage,  that  the  exterior  angle  is 
equal  to  two  interior  opposite  angles  together ;  and  that  all 
the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  angles. 

The  only  remedy  is,  to  state  distinctly  and  repeatedly  that 
you  do  not  abandon,  as  untenable,  such  and  such  a  position, 
which  you  are  not  at  present  occupied  in  maintaining;  that 
you  are  not  to  be  understood  as  admitting  the  truth  of  this 
or  that,  though  you  do  not  at  present  undertake  to  disprove  it. 

§6. 

If  the  argument  a  priori  has  been  introduced  in  the  proof 
of  the  main  proposition  in  question,  there  will 
When  need-  generally  be  no  need  of  afterwards  adducing 
lor  any^faet."  causes  to  account  for  the  truth  established,  since 
that  will  have  been  already  done  in  the  course  of 
the  argument :  on  the  other  hand,  it  will  often  be  advisable 
to  do  this,  when  arijuments  of  the  other  class  have  alone  been 
employed. 

For  it  is  in  every  case  agreeable  and  satisfactory,  and  may 
often  be  of  great  utility,  to  explain,  where  it  can  be  done,  the 

whom  he  describes  as  'feeling  no  concern  for  the  truth  of  the  reli- 
gion which  lie  calls  to  his  aid,'  and  as  representing  tliat  there  is  'no 
difference  between  false  and  true  religion  in  their  influence  on  so- 
ciety!'  This  is  the  inference  drawn  from  Warburton's  just  and  un- 
deniable remark,  that,  in  discussing  questions  respecting  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  religion  by  the  civil  magistrate,  we  must  jvaivc  the  ques- 
tion as  to  the  iruth  of  each,  because  each  man  will  of  course  regard 
his  own  as  the  true  one,  and  there  is  no  appeal  to  any  authority  on 
earth  to  decide  between  the  different  sovereigns.  Whether  Warbur- 
ton's views  are  correct  or  not,  (which  it  is  not  my  present  object  to 
inquire,)  so  gross  a  misrepresentation  of  him  is  neither  fair  nor 
wise." 


CH.  III.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  lo9 

causes  which  produce  an  effect  that  is  itself  ah'cady  admitted 
to  exist.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that  it  is  of  great  im- 
portance to  make  it  clearly  appear  which  object  is,  in  each 
case,  proposed  :  whether  to  establish  the  fact,  or  to  account 
for  it ;  since  otherwise  we  may  often  be  supposed  to  be  em- 
ploying a  feeble  argument.  For  that  which  is  a  satisfactory 
explanation  of  an  admitted  fact,  will  frequently  be  such  as 
would  be  very  insufficient  to  prove  it,  supposing  it  were  doubted. 

§7. 

Refutation  of  objections  should  generally  be  placed  in  the 
midst  of  the  argument ;  but  nearer  the  beginning       t,  i-  ^  .  • 

-  .  .|  xV'6 1 U  tci  1 1 0 1 1  ■ 

than  the  end. 

If  indeed  very  strong  objections  have  obtained  much  cur- 
rency, or  have  been  just  stated  by  an  opponent,  so  that  what 
is  asserted  is  likely  to  be  regarded  as  paradoxical,  it  may  be 
advisable  to  begin  with  a  refutation  ;  but  when  this  is  not  the 
case,  the  mention  of  objections  in  the  opening  will  be  likely 
to  give  a  paradoxical  air  to 'our  assertion,  by  implying  a  con- 
sciousness that  much  may  be  said  against  it.  If,  again,  all 
mention  of  objections  be  deferred  till  the  last,  the  other 
arguments  will  often  be  listened  to  with  prejudice  by  those 
who  may  suppose  us  to  be  overlooking  what  may  be  urged  on 
the  other  side. 

Sometimes  indeed  it  will  be  difficult  to  give  a  satisfactory 
refutation  of  the  opposed  opinions,  till  we  have  gone  through 
the  arguments  in  support  of  our  own  :  even  in  that  case, 
however,  it  will  be  better  to  take  some  brief  notice  of  them 
early  in  the  composition,  with  a  promise  of  afterwards  con- 
sidering them  more  fully,  and  refuting  them.  This  is  Aris- 
totle's usual  procedure. 

,  A  sophistical  use  is  often  made  of  this  last  rule,  when  the 
objections  are  such  as  cannot  really  be  satisfac- 
torily answered.  The  skilful  sophist  will  often,  e^-So'l!'''''^ 
by  the  promise  of  a  triumphant  refutation  hcrc- 
ai'tor,  gain  attention  to  his  own  statement;  which,  if  it  be 
made  plausible,  will  so  draw  off  the  hearer's  attention  from 
the  objections,  that  a  very  inadequate  fulfilment  of  that  pro- 
mise will  pass  unnoticed,  and  due  weight  will  not  be  allowed 
to  the  objections. 

It  may   be   worth    remarking,   that  refutation  will  often 


140  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

occasion  the  introduction  of  fresh  propositions;  i.  e.,  we  may 
hav^  to  disprove  propositions,  which,  though  incompatible 
with  the  principal  one  to  be  maintained,  will  not  be  directly 
contradictory  to  it :  e.  g.,  Burke,  in  order  to  the  establish- 
ment of  his  theory  of  beauty,  refutes  the  other  theories  which 
have  been  advanced  by  those  who  place  it  in  *'  fitness"  for  a 
certain  end — in  "  proportion" — in  "  perfection,"  etc. ;  and 
Dr.  A.  Smith,  in  his  "  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,"  combats 
the  opinion  of  those  who  make  "  expediency  the  test  of  vir- 
tue"— of  the  advocates  of  a  "moral  sense,"  etc.,  which  doc- 
trines respectively  are  at  variance  with  those  of  these  au- 
thors, and  impJ)/,  though  they  do  not  express,  a  contradiction 
of  them. 

Thouuch  I  am  at  present  treating  principally  of  the  proper 
collocation  of  refutation,  some  remarks  on  the  conduct  of  it 
will  nqjt  be  unsuitable  in  this  place.  In  the  first  place,  it  is 
to  be  observed  that  there  is*  no  distinct  class  of  refutatory 
argument;  since  they  become  such  merely  by  the  circum- 
stances under  which  they  are  employed.  There 
of^refuUn^^  are  two  ways  in  which  any  proposition  may  be 
refuted  :"}*  first,  by  proving  the  contradictory  of 
it ;  secondly,  by  overthrowing  the  arguments  by  which  it  has 
been  supported.  The  former  of  these  is  less  strictly  and 
properly  called  refutation;  being  only  accidentally  such,  since 
it  might  have  been  employed  equally  well  had  the  opposite 
argument  never  existed ;  and  in  fact  it  will  often  happen  that 
a  proposition  maintained  by  one  author  may  be  in  this  way 
refuted  by  another,  who  had  never  heard  of  his  arguments. 
Thus  Pericles  is  represented  by  Thucydides  as  proving,  in  a 
speech  to  the  Athenians,  the  probability  of  their  success 
against  the  Peloponnesians;  and  thus,  virtually,  refuting  the 
speech  of  the  Corinthian  ambassador  at  Sparta,  who  had 
labored  to  show  the  probability  of  their  speedy  downfall. J 

*  As  Aristotle  remarks,  Bhet.,  Book  II.,  apparently  in  opposition 
to  some  former  writers. 

f  '' kv-ia\)\hoyiaiil)q  and  Ivaraaic  of  Aristotle,  Book  II. 

%  The  speeches  indeed  ap])ear  to  be  in  great  part  the  composition 
of  the  historian;  but  he  professes  to  give  the  substance  of  what  was 
either  actually  said,  or  likvly  to  be  said,  on  each  occasion;  and  tlie 
arguments  urged  in  the  speeches  now  in  question  are  undoubtedly 
such  as  the  respective  speakers  would  be  likely  to  employ. 


CH.  III.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  141 

In  fact,  every  one  who  argues  in  favor  of  any  conclusion  is 
virtually  refuting-,  in  this  way,  the  opposite  conclusion. 

But  the  character  of  refutation  more  strictly  belongs  to  the 
other  mode  of  proceeding  :  viz.,  in  which  a  reference  is  made, 
and  an  answer  given,  to  some  specific  arguments  in  favor  of 
the  opposite  conclusion.  This  refutation  may  consist  either 
in  the  denial  of  one  o^  the  premises y'^  or  an  objection  against 
the  conclusiveness  of  the  reasoning.  And  here  it  is  to  be  ob- 
served that  an  objection  is  often  supposed,  from  the  mode  in 
which  it  is  expressed,  to  belong  to  this  last  class,  when  per- 
haps it  does  not,  but  consists  in  the  contradiction  of  a  pre- 
miss; for  it  is  very  common  to  say,  ''I  admit  your  principle, 
but  deny  that  it  leads  to  such  a  consequence;"  ''The  asser- 
tion is  true,  but  it  has  no  force  as  an  argument  to  prove  that 
conclusion  :"  this  sounds  like  an  objection  to  the  reasoning 
itself;  but  it  will  not  unfrequently  be  found  to  amount  only 
to  a  denial  of  the  sujij^ressed  premiss  of  an  enthymeme ;  the 
assertion  which  is  admitted  being  only  the  expressed  premiss, 
whose  "  force  as  an  argument"  must  of  course  depend  on  the 
other  premiss,  which  is  understood. ■]"  Thus  Warburton  ad- 
mits that  in  the  law  of  Moses  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state 
was  not  revealed ;  but  contends  that  this,  so  far  from  disprov- 
ing, as  the  Deists  pretend,  his  Divine  mission,  does,  on  the 
contrary,  establish  it.  But  the  objection  is  not  to  the  Deist's 
argument  properly  so  called,  but  to  the  other  premiss,  which 
they  so  hastily  took  for  granted,  and  which  he  disproves,  viz., 
"  that  a  divinely  commissioned  lawgiver  would  have  been 
sure  to  reveal  that  doctrine."  The  objection  is  then  only 
properly  said  to  lie  against  the  reasoning  itself,  Avhen  it  is 
shown  that,  granting  all  that  is  assumed  on  the  other  side, 
whether  expressed  or  understood,  still  the  conclusion  con- 
tended for  would  not  follow  from  the   premises;  either  on 

*  If  the  premiss  to  be  refuted  be  a  "  universal,"  (See  Logic,  B.  II., 
cli.  ii.,  ^  3,)  it  will  be  sufficient  to  establish  its  contradictory,  which 
will  be  a  particular;  which  will  often  be  done  by  an  argnnicnt  that 
will  naturally  be  exhibited  in  the  third  figure,  Avhose  conclusions  are 
always  particulars.  Hence,  this  maybe  called  the  enstalic,  or  refuta- 
tory  figure.     (See  Logic,  B.  II.,  ch.  iii.,  ^  4.) 

f  It  has  been  remarked  to  me  by  an  intelligent  friend,  tliat  in  com- 
mon discourse  the  word  "principle"  is  usually  employed  to  designate 
the  7«a;br  premiss  of  an  argument,  and  "reason"  the  minor. 


142  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

account  of  some  ambiguity  in  tlie  middle  term,  or  some  other 
fault  of  that  class. 


This  is  the  proper  place  for  a  treatise  on  Fallacies ;  but  as 
this  has  been  inserted  in  the  "  Elements  of  Logic," 
I  have  only  to  refer  the  reader  to  it.     (Book  III.) 


It  may  be  proper  in  this  place  to  remark,  that  "indirect 
Direct  and  reasoning"  is  sometimes  confounded  with  '^refu- 
indiroet  tation/'  or  supposed  to  be  peculiarly  connected 

with  it;  which  is  not  the  case;  either  direct  or 
indirect  reasoning  being  employed  indifferently  for  refutation, 
as  well  as  for  any  other  purpose.  The  application  of  the  term 
"  elenctic"  (from  eXeyx^tv,  to  refute  or  disprove)  to  indirect 
arguments  has  probably  contributed  to  this  confusion ;  which, 
however,  principally  arises  from  the  very  circumstances  that 
occasioned  such  a  use  of  that  term ;  viz.,  that  in  the  indirect 
method  the  absurdity  or  falsity  of  a  proposition  (opposed  to 
our  own)  is  proved ;  and  hence  is  suggested  the  idea  of  an 
adven^ary  maintaining  that  proposition,  and  of  the  refutation 
of  that  adversary  being  necessarily  accomplished  in  this  way. 
But  it  should  be  remembered  that  Euclid  and  other  mathema- 
ticians, though  they  can '  have  no  opponent  to  refute,  often 
employ  the  indirect  demonstration  ;  and  that,  .on  the  other 
hand,  if  the  contradictory  of  an  opponent's  premiss  can  be 
sati.'sfactorily  proved  in  the  direct  method,  the  refutation  is 
sufBcient. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  while,  in  science,  the  direct  method 

.  is  considered  preferable,  in  controversy  the  indirect 

method  is  often  adopted  by  choice,  as  it  affords  an  oppor- 

pometimes       tunitv  for  holding  up  an  opponent  to  scorn  and 

preferred.'         -r      i      i      j     i      •  \.         ^  \      • 

riclicule,  by  deducing  some  very  absurd  conclusion 

from  the  principles  he  maintains,  or  according  to  the  mode 
of  arguing  he  employs.  Nor  indeed  can  a  fallacy  be  so  clearly 
exposed  to  the  unlearned  reader  in  any  other  way.  For  it  is 
no  easy  matter  to  explain,  to  one  ignorant  of  Logic,  the  ground 
on  which  you  object  to  an  inconclusive  argument;  though  he 
will  be  able  to  perceive  its  correspondence  with  another, 
brought  forward  to  illustrate  it,  in  which  an  absurd  conclusion 
may  be  introduced,  as  drawn  from  true  premises. 

It  is  evident  that  either  the  prewii'ss  of  an  opponent,  or  his 


CIT.  III.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  143 

conclusion,  may  be  disprovcdj  either-  in  the  direct 
or  in  the  indirect  method ;  i.  e.,  ieither  by  proving  miicii""  ^^° 
the  truth  of  the  contradictory,  or  by  showing  that 
an  absurd  conclusion  may  fairly  be  deduced  from  the  propo- 
sition you  are  combating.  When  this  latter  mode  of  refu- 
tation is  adopted  with  respect  to  the  premiss,  the  phrase  by 
which  this  procedure  is  usually  designated  is,  that  the  '^  argu- 
ment proves  too  much;"  i.  e.,  that  it  proves,  besides  the  con- 
clusion drawn,  another,  which  is  manifestly  inadmissible. 
E.  g. :  The  argument  by  which  Dr.  Campbell  labors  to  prove 
that  every  correct  syllogism  must  be  nugatory,  as  involving 
a  " pefitio  ^yrincipii,"  proves,  if  admitted  at  all,  more  than  he 
intended;  since  it  may  easily  be  shown  to  be  equally  appli- 
cable to  all  reasoning  whatever. 

It  is  worth  remarking,  that  an  indirect  argument  may  easily 
be  altered  in  form  so  as  to  be  stated  in  the  direct  mode.  For, 
strictly  speaking,  that  is  indirect  reasoning  in  which  we  assume 
as  true  the  proposition  whose  contradictory  it  is  our  object  to 
prove;  and  deducing  regularly  from  it  an  absurd  conclusion, 
infer  thence  that  the  premiss  in  question  is  false ;  the  alter- 
native proposed  in  all  correct  reasoning  being,  either  to  admit 
the  conclusion,  or  to  deny  one  of  the  premises.  But  by 
adopting  the  form  of  a  destructive  conditional,*  the  same 
argument  as  this,  in  substance,  may  be  stated  dlrectlij.  E.  g. : 
We  may  say,  ''  Let  it  be  admitted  that  no  testimony  can  satis- 
factorily establish  such  a  fact  as  is  not  agreeable  to  our  ex- 
perience ;  thence  it  will  follow  that  the  Eastern  prince  judged 
wisely  and  rightly,  in  at  once  rejecting,  as  a  manifest  falsehood, 
the  account  given  him  of  the  phenomenon  of  ice ;  but  he  was 
evidently  mistaken  in  so  doing;  therefore  the  principle  as- 
sumed is  unsound."  Now  the  substance  of  this  argument 
remaining  the  same,  the  form  of  it  may  be  so  altered  as  to 
make  the  argument  a  direct  one;  viz.,  "//  it  be  true  that  no 
testimony,  etc.,  that  Eastern  prince  must  have  judged  wisely, 
etc.,  but  he  did  not;  therefore  that  principle  is  not  true." 

Universally,  indeed,  a  conditional  proposition  may  be  re- 
garded as  an  assertion  of  the  validity  of  a  certain    character  of 
argument;  the  antecedent  corresponding:  tb  the     conditional 
premises,  and  the  consequent  to  the  conclusion ;    Pi"Pos»"o"s. 

*  See  Logic,  B.  II.,  ch.  iv.,  g  G. 


14J:  ELEMENTS   Or   RHETORIC.  [PART  I. 

and  neitlier  of  tliem  being,  asserted  as  true,  only  the  dependence 
of  tlie  one  on  the  other ;  the  alternative  then  is,  to  acknow- 
ledge as  a  conclusion,  either  the  truth  of  the  consequent,  as 
in  the  constructive  syllogism,  or  (as  in  the  destructive)  the 
falsity  of  the  antecedent;  and  the  former  accordingly  corre- 
sponds to  direct  reasoning,  the  latter  to  indirect ;  being,  as 
has  been  said,  a  mode  of  stating  it  in  the  direct  form ;  as  is 
evident  from  the  examples  adduced. 

The  difference  between  these  two  modes  of  stating  such 
^     .    ,  ^   ,   an  argument  is  considerable,  when  there  is  a  lono; 

Ironictil  effect  .   ^  .  '^ 

of  indirect  chaiu  of  reasoning.  For  when  we  employ  the 
arguments.  categorical  form,  and  assume  as  true  the  premises 
we  design  to  disprove,  it  is  evident  we  must  be  speaking 
ironically,  and  in  the  character,  assumed  for  the  moment,  of 
an  adversary  :  when,  on  the  contrary,  we  use  the  hypothet- 
ical form,  there  is  no  irony.  Butler's  Analogy  is  an  instance 
of  the  latter  procedure :  he  contends  that  if  such  and  such 
objectioDS  were  admissible  against  religion,  they  would  be 
applicable  equally  to  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature. 
Had  he,  on  the  other  hand,  assumed,  for  the  argument's  sake, 
that  such  objections  against  religion  are  valid,  and  had  thence 
proved  the  condition  of  the  natural  world  to  be  totally  dif- 
ferent from  what  we  see  it  to  be,  his  arguments,  which  would 
have  been  the  same  in  substance,  would  have  assumed  an 
ironical  form.  This  form  has  been  adopted  by  Burke  in  his 
celebrated  "  Defence  of  Natural  Society,  by  a  late  noble 
Lord;"  in  which,  assuming  the  person  of  Bolingbroke,  he 
proves,  according  to  the  principles  of  that  author,  that  the 
arguments  he  brought  against  ecclesiastical,  would  equally 
lie  against  civil,  institutions.  This  is  an  argument  from 
analogy,  as  well  as  Bishop  Butler's,  though  not  relating  to 
the  same  point;  Butler's  being  a  defence  of  the  doctrines  of 
religion ;  Burke's,  of  its  institutions  and  practical  effects. 
A  defence  of  the  evidences  of  our  religion,  (the  third  point 
against  which  objections  have  been  urged,)  on  a  similar  plan 
with  the  work  of  Burke  just  mentioned,  and  consequently, 
like  that,  in  an  ironical  form,  I  attempted  some  years  ago,  in 
a  pamphlet,  (published  anonymously,  merely  for  the  preser- 
vation of  its  ironical  character,)  whose  object  was  to  show 
that  objections  ("  Historic  Doubts")  similar  to  those  against 
the  Scripture  histor}^,  and  much  more  plausible,  might  be 


CU.  III.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  2^5 

urged^against  all  the  received  accounts  of  Napoleon  Buona- 

It  is  in  some   respects  a  recommendation  of  this  latter 
method   and  m  others  an  objection  to  it,  that  the    opbist' 
of  an  adversary  will  often  bo  exposed  by  it  in  a  ZiZl 
pomt  of  view;    and  this  even  where  no  such  effecrrde 

i  his  will  often  give  additional  force  to  the  argument  bv  "the 
yivid  impression  which  ludicrous  ima.-e.s  nroduce  t  hnf  J 
.t  will  not  unfroqueiitly  have  this  d Lfvanta^e^t ha   T^k 

r;-'r-'T''""  '1'"  "''-  '''  »P'  '°  conclude  that  iiotMn^ 
4«<  wit  IS  designed;  and  lose  sight  perhaps  of  a  solid  and 

"o^d"  i:ke^  "ft""''"'',""''"'  '"^'-"'^'J  -  "»  more  In  a 
good  joke.  Having  been  warned  that  "ridicule  is'  not  thp 
test  of  truth,"  and  "that  wisdom  and  wit"  are  „nf  H^ 

L":e'=i't'r '  "'n  """=" '"«'  eai'  os:[^,;t  'rgaX 

^  witty,  not  having  judgment  to  perceive  the  combination 
when  1   occurs,  of  wit  with  sound  reasoning.    The  ivv  ^ea  h 
completely  conceals  from  their  view  the  point  of  thelhvrus 
And,  moreover,  ,f  such  a  mode  of  argument  be  emnWed 
on  serious  subjects,   the  "weak   breth'ren"  are      ^   ^ 
sometimes  scandalized  by  what  appears  to  them        P-.orof 
a  piofanation;   not  having  discernment  to  cer-        "■''"•■ 
ceive  when  it  is  that  the  ridicule  does,  and  when  it  does  not 
affect  the  so  enin  subieet  it«plf     «„(•  r     .,"'"-"  "  '^""s  not, 
holv  writ   the  H„,,f  if  P1--  u         • "'  ^"^  ""^  '■aspect  paid  to 

Anrj'  fl.  .•  P'^^^^  y  appear  to  such   persons   irreverent 

this  point,  eo.e  untt  t^^^^^T^  ^7,  l^^^J^    . 

^^^^^Vs7t^:Zt^^^^^^  to  some 

1835,  and  now  reprinted  in  fwi'  ^^.^"•^^^^^•)  first  published  in 
It  is  the  more  valSfnow  frln^  '""i'"' -"^  ^^'^^P  Dickinson." 
contains,  which  when  it  fiTio  '  ^'^^^^^^^^  of  the  predictions  it 
gard  as  ^xtravagaTu  geared,  many  were  disposed  to  re- 

t  See  Logic,  Chapter  on  Fallacies,  at  the  conclusion 
:  Discjt  enim  citius,  meminitque   ibent^us  ilTud 
Quod  qu:s  deridet,  quam  quid  probat't  venettur. 

—Ilor.,  Ep.  L,  B.  2. 


146  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

He  that  can  lautih  at  wliat  is  ludicrous,  and  at  the  same  time 
preserve  a  clear  discernment  of  sound  and  unsound  reason- 
ing, is  no  ordinary  man.  And,  moreover,  the  resentment 
and  mortification  felt  by  those  whose  unsound  doctrines  or 
sophistry  are  fully  exposed  and  held  up  to  contempt  or  ridi- 
cule, this  they  will  often  disguise  from  others,  and  sometimes 
from  themselves,  by  representing  the  contempt  or  ridicule 
as  directed  against  serious  or  sacred  subjects,  and  not  against 
their  own  absurdities  :  just  as  if  those  idolaters  above  alluded 
to  had  represented  the  prophets  as  ridiculing  devotional  feel- 
ings, and  not  merely  the  absurd  misdirection  of  them  to  a 
log  of  wood.  And  such  persons  will  often  in  this  way  exer- 
cise a  powerful  influence  on  those  whose  understanding  is  so 
cloudy  that  they  do  not  clearly  perceive  against  what  the 
ridicule  is  directed,  or  who  are  too  dull  to  understand  it  at 
all.  For  there  are  some  persons  so  constituted  as  to  be  alto- 
gether incapable  of  even  comprehending  the  plainest  irony; 
though  they  have  not  in  other  points  any  corresponding 
weakness  of  intellect.  The  humorous  satirical  pamphlet, 
(attributed  to  an  eminent  literary  character,)  entitled  "Advice 
to  a  Reviewer,"  I  have  known  persons  read  without  perceiv- 
ing that  it  was  ironical.  And  the  same  with  the  "  Historic 
Doubts"  lately  referred  to.  Such  persons,  when  assured  that 
such  and  such  a  work  contains  ridicule,  and  that  it  has  some 
reference  to  matters  of  grave  importance,  take  for  granted 
that  it  must  be  a  work  of  profane  levity. 

There  is  also  this  danger  in  the  use  of  irony :  that  some- 
times when  titles,  in  themselves  favorable,  are  applied  (or 
their  application  retained)  to  any  set  of  men  in  bitter  scorn, 
they  will  then  sometimes  be  enabled  to  appropriate  such  titles 
in  a  serious  sense;  the  ironical  force  gradually  evaporating. 
I  mean,  such  titles  as  "Orthodox,"  "Evangelical,"  "  Saints," 
"Reformers,"  "Liberals,"  "Political  Economists,''  "Ra- 
tional," etc.  The  advantage  thus  given  may  be  illustrated 
by  the  story  of  the  cocoa-nuts  in  Sinbad  the  Sailor's  fifth 
voyage. 

It  may  be  observed  generally,  that  too  much  stress  is  often 
laid,  especially  by  unpracticed  reasoners,  on  refutation ;  (in 
the  strictest  and  narrowest  sense,  i.  e.,  of  objections  to  the 
premises,  or  to  the  reasoning ;)  I  mean,  that  they  arc  apt 
both  to  expect  a  refutation  where  none  can  fairly  be  expected, 


CH.  111.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  147 

and  to  attribute  to  it,  when  satisfactorily  made  out,  more  than 
it  really  accomplishes. 

For  first,  not  only  specious,  but  real  and  solid  arguments, 
such  as  it  would  be  difficult  or  impossible  to  refute,  may  be 
urged  against  a  proposition  Avhich  is  nevertheless  true,  and 
may  be  satisfactorily  established  by  a  preponderance  of  pro- 
bability.* It  is  in  strictly  scientific  reasoning 
alone  that  all  the  arguments  which  lead  to  a  false  ^{"^"^^i^f,^ 
conclusion  must  be  fallacious.  In  what  is  called  mentsniay 
moral  or  probable  reasoning,  there  maybe  sound  gides.^" 
arguments,  and  valid  objections,  on  both  sides."]" 
E.  g.  :  It  may  be  shown  that  each  of  two  contending  parties 
has  some  reason  to  hope  for  success ;  and  this,  by  irrefraga- 
ble arguments  on  both  sides;  leading  to  conclusions  which 
are  not  (strictly  speaking)  contradictory  to  each  other;  for 
though  only  one  party  can  obtain  the  victory,  it  may  be  true 
that  each  has  some  reason  to  expect  it.  The  real  question  in 
such  cases  is,  which  event  is  the  more  probable — on  which 
side  the  evidence  preponderates.  Now  it  often  happens  that 
the  inexperienced  reasoner,  thinking  it  necessary  that  every 
objectioi/ should  be  satisfactorily  answered,  will  have  his  at- 
tention drawn  off  from  the  arguments  of  the  opposite  side, 
and  will  be  occupied  perhaps  in  making  a  weak  defence, 
while  victory  was  in  his  hands.  The  objection  perhaps  may 
be  unanswerable,  and  yet  may  safely  be  allowed,  if  it  can  be 
shown  that  more  and  weightier  objections  lie  against  every 
other  supposition.  This  is  a  most  important  caution  for  those 
who  are  studying  the  evidences  of  religion.  Let  the  opposer 
of  them  be  called  oii,  instead  of  confining  himself  to  detached 
cavils,  and  saying,  '^  How  do  you  answer  this?"  and  "How 
do  you  explain  that  ?"  to  frame  some  consistent  hypothesis  to 
account  for  the  introduction  of  Christianity  by  human  mcnns; 
and  then  to  consider  whether  there  are  more  or  fewer  diffi- 
culties in  his  hypothesis  than  in  the  other. 

On  the  other  hand,  one  may  often  meet  with  a  sophistical 


*  See  above,  chap,  ii.,  ^  4,  and  also  Logic,  Part  Til.,  ^17. 

f  Bacon,  in  his  rhetorical  commonplace.s — heads  of  arguments  7>ro 
and  contra,  on  several  questions — has  some  admirable  illustrations 
of  what  has  been  here  remarked.  I  have  accoixliugly  (in  Appendix 
A)  inserted  some  selections  from  them. 


148  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

refutation  of  objections,  consisting  in  counter- 
reiutoUcm.        objections  urged  against  something  else  which  is 

taken  for  granted  to  be,  though  it  is  not,  the  oidy 
alternative.  E.  g. :  Objections  against  an  unlimited  mo- 
narchy may  be  met  by  a  glowing  description  of  the  horrors 
of  the  mob-goYcrnment  of  the  Athenian  and  Roman  repub- 
lics. If  an  exclusive  attention  to  mathematical  pursuits  be 
objected  to,  it  may  be  answered  by  deprecating  the  exclusion 
of  such  studies.  It  is  thus  that  a  man  commonly  replies  to 
the  censure  passed  on  any  vice  he  is  addicted  to,  by  repre- 
senting some  other  vice  as  worse :  e.  g.,  if  he  is  blamed  for 
being  a  sot,  he  dilates  on  the  greater  enormity  of  being  a 
thief;  as  if  there  were  any  need  he  should  be  either.  And 
it  is  in  this  way  alone  that  the  advocates  of  transportation 
have  usually  defended  it :  describiiig  some  very  ill-managed 
penitentiary  system,  and  assuming,  as  self-evident  and  ad- 
mitted, that  this  must  be  the  only  jwsaible  substitute  for  penal 
colonies.*  This  fallacy  may  be  stated  logically,  as  a  disjunc- 
tive hypothetical,  with  the  major,  false. 

Secondly,  the  force  of  a  refutation  is  often  overrated  :  an 

argument  which  is  satisfactorily  answerM  ought 
matroAhe  vnerelj  to  go  for  nothing :  it  is  possible  that  the 
force  of  refu-  conclusion  drawn  may  nevertheless  be  true ;  yet 

men  are  apt  to  take  for  granted  that  the  conclu- 
sion itself  is  disproved,  when  the  arguments  brought  forward 
to  establish  it  have  been  satisfactorily  refuted ;  assuming, 
when  perhaps  there  is  no  ground  for  the  assumption,  that 
these  are  all  the  arguments  that  could  be  urged. "j"     This  may 

*  See  Letters  to  Earl  Grey  on  the  subject — Rept)rt  of  Committee, 
and  "Substance  of  a  Speech,"  etc. 

•j-  Another  form  of  if/noratio  elenchi,  (irrelevant  conclusion,)  which 
is  rather  the  more  serviceable  on  the  side  of  the  respondent,  is,  to 
prove  or  disprove  some  part  of  that  which  is  required,  and  dwell  on 
that,  suppressing  nil  the  rest. 

"Thus,  if  a  university  is  charged  with  cultivating  only  the  mere 
elements  of  Mathematics,  and  in  reply  a  list  of  the  books  studied 
there  is  produced,  should  even  any  one  of  those  books  be  not  element- 
ary, the  charge  is  in  fairness  refuted ;  but  the  sophist  may  then 
earnestly  contend  tliat  aome  of  those  books  are  elementary;  and  thus 
keep  out  of  sight  the  real  question,  viz.,  whether  they  are  all  so. 
This  is  the  great  art  of  the  answerer  of  a  book :  suppose  the  main 
luositions  in  any  work  to  be  irrefragable,  it  will  be  strange  if  some 


CH.  III.,  §  7.]  CONVICTION.  149 

be  considered  as  the  fallacy  of  defying  the  consequent  of  a 
conditional  proposition,  from  the  antecedent  having  been 
denied.  "  If  such  and  such  an  argument  be  admitted,  the 
assertion  in  question  is  true ;  but  that  argument  is  inadmis- 
sible ;  therefore  the  assertion  is  not  true."  Hence  the  injury 
done  to  any  cause  by  a  weak  advocate;  the  cause  itself  ap- 
pearing to  the  vulgar  to  be  overthrown,  when  Ihe  arguments 
brought  forward^are  answered. 

''  llence  the  danger  of  ever  advancing  more  than  can  be 
well  maintained  ',  since  the  refutation  of  that  will  often  quash 
the  whole.  A  guilty  person  ma}''  often  escape  by  having  too 
much  laid  to  his  charge ;  so  he  may  also  by  having  too  much 
evidence  against  him,  i.  e.,  some  that  is  not  in  itself  satisfac- 
tory :  thus  a  prisoner  may  sometimes  obtain  acquittal  by 
showino:  that  one  of  the  witnesses  aijainst  him  is  an  infamous 
informer  and  spy;  though  perhaps  if  that  part  of  the  evi- 
dence had  been  omitted/ the  rest  would  have  been  sufficient 
for  conviction.''* 

The  maxim  here  laid  down,  however,  applies  only  to  those 
causes  in  which,  (waiving  the  consideration  of  honesty,)  first, 
it  is  wished  to  produce  not  merely  a  temporary,  but  a  lasting 


ilhistration  of  them,  or  some  subordinate  pai't,  in  short,  will  not  ad- 
mit of  a  pLausible  objection ;  the  opponent  then  joins  issue  on  one 
of  these  incidental  questions,  and  comes  forward  with  'a  Reply'  to 
such  and  such  a  work." — Logic,  B.  III.,  ^18.  Another  expedient 
which  ansioercrs  sometimes  resort  to,  and  which  is  less  likely  to  re- 
main permailcntly  undetected, Is  to  garble  a  book:  exhibiting  state- 
ments without  their  explanations,  conclusions  without  their  proofs, 
and  passages  brought  together  out  of  their  original  order;  so  as  to 
produce  an  appearance  of  falsehood,  confusion,  or  inconclusivcness. 
The  last  and  boldest  step  is  for  the  "answerer"  to  make  some  false 
statement  or  absurd  remark,  and  then  father  it  upon  the  author. 
And  even  this  artifice  will  sometimes  succeed  for  a  time,  because 
many  persons  do  not  suspect  that  any  one  would  venture  upon  it. 
Again,  it  is  no  uncommon  manoeuvre  of  a  dexterous  sophist,  when 
there  is  some  argument,  statement,  scheme,  etc.,  which  he  cannot 
directly  defeat,  to  assent  with  seeming  cordiality,  but  with  some  ex- 
ception, addition,  or  qualification,  (as,  e.  g.,  an  additional  clause  in 
an  act,)  which,  though  seemingly  unimportant,  shall  entirely  nullify 
all  the  rest.  This  has  been  humorously  compared  to  the  trick  of  the 
pilgrim  in  theiwell-known  tale,  who  "took  the  liberty  to  boil  his 
pease." 

*  See  Logic,  B.  III.,  ^  18. 


150  .ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART  I. 

impression,  and  that  on  Headers  or  hearers  of  some  judg- 
ment; and  secondly,  when  there  really  are  some  iceighti/ 
arguments  to  be  urged.  When  no  charge,  e.  g.,  can  really  be 
substantiated,  and  yet  it  is  desired  to  produce  some  present 
eflfect  on  the  unthinking,  there  may  be. room  for  the  applica- 
tion of  the  proverb,  "  Slander  stoutly,  and  something  will 
stick  :"  the  vulgar  are  apt  to  conclude,  that  where  a  great 
d'eal  is  said,  something  must  be  true ;  and  many  are  fond  of 
that  lazy  contrivance  for  saving  the  trouble  of  thinking — 
"splitting  the  difference;"  imagining  that  they  show  a  laud- 
able caution  in  believing  only  a  part  of  what  is  said.  And 
thus  a  malignant  sophist  may  gain  such  a  temporary  advan- 
tage by  the  multiplicity  of  his  attacks,  as  the  rabble  of  com- 
batants described  by  Homer  sometimes  did  by  their  showers 
of  javelins,  which  encumbered  and  weighed  down  the  shield 
of  one  of  his  heroes,  though  they  could  not  penetrate  it. 
On  the  above  principle,  that  a  weak  argument  is  positively 

hurtful,  is  founded  a  most  important  maxim,  that 
shSdb"^  it  is  not  only  the  fairest,  but  also  the  wisest  plan, 
stated  in  their   to  State  ohjcctions  ill  their  fall  force ;    at  least, 

wherever  there  does  exist  a  satisfactory  answer 
to  them  ;  otherwise,  those  who  hear  them  stated  more  strongly 
than  by  the  uncandid  advocate  who  had  undertaken  to  repel 
ihem,  will  naturally  enough  conclude  that  they  are  unanswer- 
able. It  is  but  a  momentary  and  ineffective  triumph  that 
can  be  obtained  by  manoeuvres  like  those  of  Turnus's  cha- 
rioteer, who  furiously  chased  the  feeble  stragglers  of  the 
army,  and  evaded  the  main  front  of  the  battle. 

And  when  the  objections  urged  are  not  only  unanswerable, 
but  (what  is  more)  decisive — when  some  argument  that  has 
been  adduced,  or  some  portion  of  a  system,  etc.,  is  perceived 
to  be  really  unsound — it  is  the  wisest  way  fairly  and  fully  to 
confess  this,  and  abandon  it  altogether.  There  are  many  who 
seem  to  make  it  a  point  of  honor  never  to  yield  a  single  point, 
never  to  retract ;  or  (if  this  be  found  unavoidable)  "  to  back 
out" — as  the  phrase  is — of  an  untenable  position,  so  as  to 
display  their  reluctance  to  make  any  concession ;  as  if  their 
credit  was  staked  on  preserving  unbroken  the  talisman  of 
professed  inflillibility.  But  there  is  little  wisdom  (the  ques- 
tion of  honesty  is  out  of  the  province  of  th«s  treatise)  in 
such  a  procedure ;  which  in  fact  is  very  liable  to  cast  a  sus- 


CH.  III.,  §  8.]  CONVICTION.  151 

picion  on  that  which  is  really  sound,  when  it  appears  that  the 
•advocate  is  ashamed  to  abandon  what  is  unsound.  And  such 
an  honest  avowal  as  I  have  been  recommending,  though  it 
may  raise  at  first  a  feeble  and  brief  shout  of  exultation,  will 
soon  be  followed  by  a  general  and  increasing  murmur  of  ap- 
probation. Uncandid  as  the  world  often  is,  it  seldom  fails  to 
applaud  the  magnanimity  of  confessing  a  defect  or  a  mistake, 
and  to  reward  it  with  an  increase  of  confidence.  Indeed, 
this  increased  confidence  is  often  rashly  bestowed,  by  a  kind 
of  over-generosity  in  the  public ;  which  is  apt  too  hastily  to 
consider  the  confession  of  an  error  as  a  proof  of  universal 
sincerity.  Some  of  the  most  skilful  sophists  accordingly 
avail  themselves  of  this ;  and  gain  credence  for  much  that  is 
false,  by  acknowledging  with  an  air  of  frankness  some  one 
mistake;  which,  like  a  tub  thrown  to  the  whale,  they  sacri- 
fice for  the  sake  of  persuading  us  that  they  have  committed 
only  one  error.  I  fear  it  can  hardly  be  affirmed,  as  yet,  that 
^'  this  trick  has  been  so  long  used  in  controversy  as  to  be 
almost  worn  out."* 

§8- 

It  is  important  to  observe,  that  too  earnest  and  elaborate  a 
refutation  of  arguments  which  are  really  insigni- 
ficant, or  which  their  opponent  wishes  to  repre-  Je*futntf(fn.^* 
sent  as  such,  will  frequently  have  the  effect  of 
giving  them  importance.  Whatever  is  slightly  noticed,  and 
afterwards  passed  by  with  contempt,  many  readers  and  hear- 
ers will  very  often  conclude  (sometimes  for  no  other  reason) 
to  be  really  contemptible.  But  if  they  are  assured  of  this 
again  and  again  with  great  earnestness,  they  often  begin  to 
doubt  it.  They  see  the  respondent  plying  artillery  and  mus- 
ketry, bringing  up  horse  and  foot  to  the  charge ;  and  con- 
ceive that  what  is  so  vehemently  assailed  must  possess  great 
strength.  One  of  his  refutations  might  perhaps  have  left 
them  perfectly  convinced :  all  of  them  together,  leave  them 
in  doubt. 

But  it  is  not  to  refutation  alone  that  this  principle  will 
apply.  In  other  cases  also  it  may  happen  (paradoxical  as 
it  is  at  first  sight)   that  it  shall  be  possible,   and    danger- 

*  See  Defence  of  Oxford,  Second  Reply,  p.  95. 


152  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

DanRer  of        *^^^'  ^^  "writc  too  forcibly.     Sucli  a  caution  may 
wriungtoo       rciiiiud  souie  readers    of  the  personage  in   the 
}•  fairy -talc,   whose    swiftness    was    so   prodigious, 

that  he  was  obliged  to  tic  his  legs,  lest  he  should  overrun, 
and  thus  miss,  the  hares  he  was  pursuing.  But  on  consid- 
eration it  will  be  seen  that  the  caution  is  not  unreasonable. 
AY  hen  indeed  the  point  maintained  is  one  which  most  persons 
admit  or  are  disposed  to  admit,  but  which  they  are  prone  to 
lose  sight  of,  or  to  underrate  in  respect  of  its  importance,  or 
not  to  dwell  on  with  an  attention  sufficiently  practical,  that  is 
just  the  occasion  which  calls  on  us  to  put  forth  all  our  efibrts 
in  setting  it  forth  in  the  most  forcible  manner  possible.  Yet 
even  here,  it  is  often  necessary  to  caution  the  hearers  against 
imagining  that  a  point  is  difficult  to  establish,  because  its 
importance  leads  us  to  dwell  very  much  on  it.  Some,  e.  g., 
are  apt  to  suppose,  from  the  copious  and  elaborate  arguments 
which  have  been  urged  in  defence  of  the  authenticity  of  the 
Christian  Scriptures,  that  these  are  books  whose  authenticity 
is  harder  to  he  estahlished  than  that  of  other  supposed  ancient 
works  ;*  whereas  the  fact  is  very  much  the  reverse.  But  the 
importance^  and  the  difficulty,  of  proving  any  point,  are  very 
apt  to  be  confounded  together,  though  easily  distinguishable. 
AVe  bar  the  doors  carefully,  not  merely  when  we  expect  an 
unusually  formidahle  attack,  but  when  we  have  an  unusual 
treasure  in  the  house. 

But  when  any  principle  is  to  be  established,  which,  though 
in  itself  capable  of  being  made  evident  to  the  humblest  ca- 
pacity, yet  has  been  long  and  generally  overlooked,  and  to 
which  established  prejudices  are  violently  opposed,  it  will 
sometimes  happen  that  to  set  forth  the  absurdity  of  such 
prejudices  in  the  clearest  point  of  view,  (though  in  language 
perfectly  decent  and  temperate,)  and  to  demonstrate  the  con- 
clusion, over  and  over,  so  fully  and  forcibly  that  it  shall  seem 
the  most  palpable  folly  or  dishonesty  to  deny  it,  will,  with 
some  minds,  have  an  opposite  tendency  to  the  one  desired. 
Some,  perhaps,  conscious  of  having  been  the  slaves  or  the 


*  See  Taylor's  "  His-tory  of  the  Transmission  of  Ancient  Books" — 
a  very  interesting  and  valuable  Avork ;  and  also  the  Review  of  it — 
whicli  is  still  more  so — iu  the  "London  lleview,"  Nov.  2,  1829. 
(Saunders  and  Otley.) 


CII.  III.,  §  8.]  CONVICTION.  153 

supporters  of  such  prejudices  as  are  thus  held  up  to  contempt, 
(not  indeed  by  disdainful  language,  but  simply  by  being 
placed  in  a  very  clear  light,)  and  of  having  overlooked  truths 
which,  when  thus  clearly  explained  and  proved,  appear  per- 
fectly evident  even  to  a  child,  will  consequently  be  stung  by 
a  feeling  of  shame  passing  ofi'  into  resentment,  which  stops 
their  ears  against  argument.  They  could  have  borne  perhaps 
to  change  their  opinion,  but  not  so  to  change  it  as  to  tax  their 
former  opinion  with  the  grctssest  folly.  They  would  be  so 
sorr^  to  think  they  had  been  blinded  to  such  an  excess,  and 
are  so  angry  with  him  who  is  endeavoring  to  persuade  them 
to  think  so,  that  these  feelings  determine  them  7iot  to  think 
it.  They  try  (and  it  is  an  attempt  which  few  persons  ever 
make  in  vain)  to  shut  their  eyes  against  a  humiliating  con- 
viction ;  and  thus,  the  very  triumphant  force  of  the  reasoning 
adduced  serves  to  harden  them  against  admitting  the  con- 
clusion :  much  as  one  may  conceive  lloman  soldiers  desper- 
ately holding  out  an  untenable  fortress  to  the  last  extremity, 
from  apprehension  of  being  made  to  pass  under  the  yoke  by 
the  victors,  should  they  surrender. 

Others,  again,  perhaps  comparatively  strangers  to  the  ques- 
tion, and  not  prejudiced,  or  not  strongly  prejudiced,  against 
your  conclusion,  but  ready  to  admit  it  if  supported  by  suffi- 
cient arguments,  will  sometimes,  if  your  arguments  are  veri/ 
much  beyond  what  is  sufficient,  have  their  suspicions  roused 
by  this  very  circumstance.  ''  Can  it  be  possible,^'  they  will 
say,  "  that  a  conclusion  so  very  obvious  as  this  is  made  to  ap- 
pear, should  not  have  been  admitted  long  ago  ?  Is  it  con- 
ceivable that  such  and  sucli  eminent  philosophers,  divines, 
statesmen,  etc.,  should  have  been  all  their  lives  under  delu- 
sions so  gross  V  Hence  they  are  apt  to  infer,  either  that  the 
author  has  mistaken  the  opinions  of  those  he  imagines  op- 
posed to  him,  or  else  that  there  is  some  subtle  fallacy  in  his 
arguments. 

The  former  of  these  suspicions  is  a  matter  of  little  or  no 
consequence,  except  as  far  as  regards  the  author's  credit  for 
acuteness.*     As  far  as  the  legitimate  province  of  the  orator 

*  *'  The  more  simple,  clear,  and  obvious  any  principle  is  rendered, 
the  more  likely  is  its  exposition  to  elicit  those  common  remarks,  'Of 
course !  of  course !  uo  one  could  ever  doubt  that ;  this  is  all  very 


154  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

is  concerned,  he  may  be  satisfied  with  establishing  a  just  prin- 
ciple, and  leaving  men  to  imagine,  if  they  will,  that  nobody 
had  ever  doubted  it.  But  the  other  suspicion  may  lead  to 
very  serious  evil ;  and  it  is  not  by  any  means  unlikely  to 
occur.  Many  a  one  will  be  convinced  that  there  must  be 
some  flaw  in  a  course  of  argument  in  which  he  is  conscious, 
and  perhaps  ready  to  confess,  that  he  cannot  point  out  any ; 
merely  on  the  ground,  that  if  there  is  none,  but  the  whole  is 
perfectly  sound  and  valid,  he  cannot  conceive  that  it  should 
have  been  overlooked,  (so  obvious  as  it  is  made  to  appear,) 
for  perhaps  ages  together,  by  able  men  who  had  devoted  their 
thoughts  to  the  subject.  That  of  so  many  thousands  of  phy- 
sicians who  for  ages  had  been  in  the  daily  habit  of  feeling 
the  pulse,  no  one  before  Harvey  should  have  suspected  the 
circulation  of  the  blood,  was  probably  a  reason  with  many  for 
denying  that  discovery.  And  a  man's  total  inability,  as  I 
have  said,  to  point  out  any  fallacy,  will  by  no  means  remove 
his  conviction  or  suspicion  that  there  must  he  some,  if  the 
conclusion  be  one  which,  for  the  reason  just  mentioned,  seems 
to  him  inconceivable.  There  are  many  persons  unable  to 
find  out  the  ^slw  in  the  argument,  e.  g.,  by  which  it  is  pre- 
tended to  be  demonstrated  that  Achilles  could  not  overtake 
the  tortoise ;  but  some  flaw  every  one  is  sure  there  must  be, 
from  his  full  conviction  that  Achilles  could  overtake  the  tor- 
toise. 

In  this  way  it  is  very  possible  that  our  reasoning  may  be 
''  dark  with  excess  of  light." 

Of  course  it  is  not  meant  that  a  refutation  should  ever  ap- 
pear (when  that  can  be  avoided)  m sufficient;  that  a  conclu- 
sion should  be  left  doubtful  which  we  are  able  to  establish 
fully.  But  in  combating  deep-rooted  prejudices,  and  main- 
taining unpopular  and  paradoxical  truths,  the  point  to  be 
aimed  at  should  be  to  adduce  what  is  sufficient,  and  not  much 

true,  but  there  is  nothing  neio  brought  to  light ;  nothing  that  was  not 
familiar  to  every  one  ;'  '  There  needs  no  ghost  to  tell  us  that.'  I  am 
convinced  that  a  verbose,  mystical,  and  partially  obscure  way  of 
writing  on  such  a  subject,  is  the  most  likely  to  catch  the  attention 
of  the  multitude.  The  generality  verify  the  observation  of  Tacitus, 
'Omne  ignolum  pro  magnifico ;'  and  when  any  thing  is  made  plain  to 
them,  are  apt  to  fancy  that  they  knew  it  already." — Preface  to  Eler 
merits  of  Logic. 


cir.  III.,  §  8.]  CONVICTION.  155 

more  than  is  sufficient,  to  prove  your  conclusion.  If  (in  such 
a  case)  you  can  but  satisfy  men  that  your  opinion  is  decidedly 
more  probable  than  the  opposite,  you  will  have  carried  your 
point  more  effectually,  than  if  you  go  on,  much  beyond  this, 
to  demonstrate,  by  a  multitude  of  the  most  forcible  argu- 
ments, the  extreme  absurdity  of  thinking  differently,  till  you 
have  affronted  the  self-esteem  of  some,  and  9,wakened  the  dis- 
trust of  others.*  Laborers  who  are  employed  in  driving 
icedges  into  a  block  of  wood,  are  careful  to  use  blows  of  no 
greater  force  than  is  just  sufficient.  If  they  strike  too  hard, 
the  elasticity  of  the  wood  will  throw  out  the  icedge. 

There  is  in  some  cases  another  danger  also  to  be  appre- 
hended from  the  employment  of  a  great  number  and  variety 
of  arc-uments  :   ^whether  for  refutation,  or  other-     ^ 

.  Dtin^^or  of 

wise;)  namely,  that  some  of  them,  though  really  usin's  topics 
unanswerable,  may  be  drawn  from  topics  of  which  aocessiiSe  to 
the  unlearned  reader  or  hearer  is  not,  by  his  own  the  persons 
knowledge,  a  competent  judge;  and  these  a  crafty 
opponent  will  immediately  assail,  keeping  all  the  rest  out  of 
sight ;  knowing  that  he  is  thus  transferring  the  contest  to 
another  field,  in  which  the  result  is  sure  to  be,  practically,  a 
drawn  battle. 

Suppose,  for  instance,  you  could  maintain  or  oppose  some 
doctrine  or  practice,  by  arguments  drawn  from  Scripture,  and 
also  from  the  most  eminent  of  the  Fathers,  and  from  a  host 
of  the  ablest  commentators  and  biblical  critics  :  in  a  work 
designed  for  the  learned  few,  it  might  be  well  to  employ  all 
these';  but  in  a  popular  work,  designed  for  the  uneducated — 
and  nine-tenths  of  what  are  called  the  educated  classes — it 
would  be  better  to  omit  all  except  those  drawn  from  plain 
undisputed  passages  of  the  common  version  of  the  Bible. 
Else,  however  decisively  your  conclusion  might  be  established 
in  the  eyes  of  competent  judges,  you  might  expect  to  be  met 
by  an  artful  opponent  who  would  join  issue  on  that  portion 
of  the  arguments  (keeping  the  rest  out  of  sight)  which 
turned  most  on  matters  of  multifarious  and  deep  research  : 


*  A  French  writer,  M,  Say,  relates  a  story  of  some  one  who,  for  a 
wager,  stood  a  whole  (lay  on  one  of  the  bridges  in  Paris,  offering  to 
sell  a  five-franc  piece  for  one  franc,  and  (naturally)  not  finding  a 
purchaser. 


156  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

boldly  denying  your  citations,  or  alleging;  misrepresentation 
of  the  authors  appealed  to,  or  asserting  that  you  had  omitted 
the  weightiest  authorities,  and  that  these  were  on  the  oppo- 
site side,  etc.  Who,  of  the  unlearned,  could  tell  which  was 
in  the  right  ?  You  might  reply,  and  might  fully  disprove 
all  that  had  been  urged ;  but  you  might  be  met  by  fresh  and 
fresh  assertions,  fresh  denials,  fresh  appeals  to  authorities, 
real  or  feigned ;  and  so  the  contest  might  be  kept  up  for 
ever.  The  mass  of  the  readers,  meantime,  would  be  in  the 
condition  of  a  blind  man  who  should  be  a  bystander  at  a 
battle,  and  could  not  judge  which  party  was  prevailing,  ex- 
cept from  the  reports  of  those  who  stood  near  him.''' 

It  is  generally  the  wisest  course,  therefore,  not  only  to  em- 
ploi/  such  arguments  as  are  directly  accessible  to  the  persons 
addressed,  but  to  confine  oneself  to  these,  lest  the  attention 
should  be  drawn  off  from  them. 

On  the  whole,  the  arguments  which  it  requires  the  greatest 
nicety  of  art  to  refute  effectually,  (I  mean,  for 
refutTng^vhat  OQ©  who  has  truth  on  his  side,)  are  those  which 
is  excessively  are  SO  very  weak  and  silly  that  it  is  difficult  to 
make  their  absurdity  more  palpable  than  it  is 
already ;  at  least,  without  a  risk  of  committing  the  error  for- 
merly noticed.  The  task  reminds  one  of  the  well-known 
difficult  feat  of  cutting  through  a  cushion  with  a  sword.l 
And  what  augments  the  perplexity  is,  that  such  arguments 
are  usually  brought  forward  by  those  who,  we  feel  sure,  are 
not  themselves  convinced  by  them,  but  are  ashamed  to  avow 
their  real  reasons.  So  that  in  such  a  case  we  know  that  the 
refutation  of  these  pretexts  will  not  go  one  step  towards  con- 
vincing those  who  urge  them;  any  more  than  the  justifica- 
tions of  the  lamb  in  the  fable  against  the  wolf's  charges. 

The  last  remark  to  be  made  under  this  head  is  as  to  the 
difference  between  simply  cZ^sproving  an  error,  and  showing 
whence  it  arose.  Merely  to  prove  that  a  certain  position  is 
untenable,  if  this  be  done  quite  decisively,  ought  indeed  to 
be  sufficient  to  induce  every  one  to  abandon  it;  but  if  we 
can-  also  succeed  (which  is  usually  a  more  difficult  task)  in 
tracing  the  erroneous  opinion  up  to  its  origin — in  destroying 
not  only  the  branches  but  the  root  of  the  error — this  will 

*  See  Essay  II.,  "  On  the  Kingdom  of  Christ,"  ^  21. 


CH.  III.,  §  9.]  CONVICTION.  157 

afford  much  more  complete  satisfaction,  and  will  be  likely  to 
produce  a  more  lasting  effect.  E.  g.  :  It  has  been  repeatedly 
proved  that  the  distinction,  made  by  A.  Smith  and  some 
other  writers,  between  "productive"  and  ''unproductive  labor- 
ers," leads  to  absurd  conclusions ;  but  in  the  article  on  Poli- 
tical Economy  in  the  "  Encyclopaedia  Metropolitana"  there 
is,  in  addition  to  this  disproof,  a  clear  and  useful  explanation 
given  of  the  way  in  which  this  fanciful  distinction  arose : 
viz.,  from  the  different  modes  of  ])aying  different  classes  of 
laborers. 

For  another  instance,  see  the  article  'yfendency"  in  the 
Appendix  to  ''  Elements  of  Logic,"  and  the  passage  in  the 
''Lectures  on  Political  Economy"  there  referred  to;  which 
contains  an  explanation  of  the  origin  (from  the  ambiguity  of 
a  word)  of  a  prevailing  and  most  dangerous  mistake. 

§9. 

The  arguments  which  should  be  placed  first  in  order  are, 
ca'tcris  paribus,  the  most  obvious,  and  such  as 

,         n      £     1  The  most  ob- 

naturally  nrst  occur.  vious  argu- 

This  is  evidently  the  natural  order ;  and  the   ments  have 
adherence  to  it  gives  an  easy,  natural  air  to  the 
composition.     It  is  seldom  therefore  worth  while  to  depart 
from  it  for  the  sake  of  beginning  with  the   most  powerful 
arguments,  (when  they  happen  not  to  be  also  the  most  obvi- 
ous,) or,  on  the  other  hand,  for  the  sake  of  reserving  these 
to  the  last,  and  beginning  with  the  weaker;  or,  again,  of 
imitating,  as  some  recommend,  Nestor's  plan  of  drawing  up 
troops,  placing  the  best  first  and  last,  and  the  weakest  in  the 
middle.     It  will  be  advisable,  however,  (and  by  this  means 
you  may  secure  this  last  advantage,)  when  the  strongest  argu- 
ments naturally  occupy  the  foremost  place,  to  recapitulate  i)i- 
a  reverse  order ;  which  will  destroy  the  appearance  of  anti- 
climax, and  is  also  in  itself  the  most  easy  and  natural  mode 
of  recapitulation.     Let,  e.  g.,  the  arguments  be 
A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  etc.,  each  less  weighty  than  the   ^tSonf '''''" 
preceding ;  then,  in  recapitulating,  proceed  from 
E  to  D,  C,  B,  concluding  with  A. 


158  ■  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

\ 

OP   INTRODUCTIONS   AND   CONCLUSIONS. 


§1- 

An  introduction,  exordium,  or  proeme,  is,  as  Aristotle 
lias  justly  remarked,  not  to  be  accounted  one  of  the  essential 
parts  of  a  composition,  since  it  is  not  in  every  case  necessary. 
In  most,  however,  except  such  as  are  extremely  short,  it  is 
found  advisable  to  premise  something  before  we  enter  on  the 
main  argument,  to  avoid  an  appearance  of  abruptness,  and  to 
facilitate,  in  some  way  or  other,  the  object  proposed.  In 
larger  works  this  assumes  the  appellation  of  preface  or  adver- 
tisement; and  not  unfrequently  two  are  employed,  one  under 
the  name  of  preface,  and  another,  more  closely  connected 
with  the  main  work,  under  that  of  introduction. 

The  rules  which  have  been  laid  down  already  will  apply 
equally  to  that  preliminary  course  of  argument  of  which  in- 
troductions often  consist. 

The  writers  before  Aristotle  are  censured  by  him  for  inac- 
curacy, in  placing  under  the  head  of  introductions,  as  pro- 
perly belonging  to  them,  many  things  which  are  not  more 
appropriate  in  the  beginning  than  elsewhere;  as,  e.  g.,  the 
contrivances  for  exciting  the  hearers'  attention;  which,  as 
he  observes,  is  an  improper  arrangement ;  since,  though  such 
an  introduction  may  sometimes  be  required,  it  is,  generally 
speaking,  anywhere  else  rather  than  in  the  beginning  that 
the  attention  is  likely  to  flag. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  there  is  one  kind  of  fault 
Dano'cr  of  Sometimes  committed  in  introductions,  which  does 
.'uuuTnneing  lead  to  this  result.  If  a  speaker  alarms  his  au- 
too  much.  (iience  in  the  outset,  by  announcing  a  great  num- 
ber of  topics  to  be  handled,  and  perhaps  also  several  prelim- 
inary considerations,  preparatory  explanations,  etc.,  they  will 
be  likely  (especially  after  a  protracted  debate)  to  listen  with 
impatience  to  what  they  expect  will  prove  tedious,  and  to 
feel  an  anticipated  weariness  even  from  the  very  commence- 
ment. 


CH.  IV.,  §  2.]  CONVICTION.  159 

The  rule  laid  down  by  Cicero,  {De  Orat.,)  not  to  compose 
I  the  introduction  Jh-^t,  but   to   consider  first  the 
main  argument,  and  let  that' suggest  the  exor-   nou^fSf''^"'^ 
dium,  is  just  and  valuable;  for  otherwise,  as  he   composed 
observes,  seldom  any  thing  will  suggest  itself  but   ^^''^' 
vague  generalities — ^U-ommon''  topics,  as  he  calls  them — i.  e., 
what  would  equally  well  suit  several  different  compositions; 
whereas  an  introduction  that  is  composed  last,  will  naturaUy 
spring  out  of  the  main  subject,  and  appear  appropriate  to  it. 

§2. 

1st.  One  of  the  objects  most  frequently  proposed  in  an  in- 
troduction is,  to  show  that  the  subject  in  question 

is   important,  curious,  or  .otherwise   intereUina ,     Jn^i"?'!".''*''^'^ 
1  i.1         r*     xi.      X-  nil  •  1  n    1    '^        inquisitive. 

and  worthy  oi  attention.      Ihis  may  be  called  an 
''  introduction  inquisitive.'"'' 

2dly.  It  will  frequently  happen  also,  when  the  point  to  be 
proved  or  explained  is  one  which  may  be  very 
fully  established,  or  on  which  there  is  little  or  no  inti-oduction 
doubt,  that  it  may  nevertheless  be  strange,  and 
different  from  what  might  have  been  expected;  in  which 
case  it  will  often  have  a  good  effect  in  rousing  the  attention, 
to  set  forth  as  strongly  as  possible  this  para<^ox/c«^  character, 
and  dwell  on  the  seeming  improbability  of  that  which  must, 
after  all,  be  admitted.  This  may  be  called  an  "introduction 
paradoxical."  For  instance:  "If  you  should  see  a  flock  of 
pigeons  in  a  field  of  corn ;  and  if  (instead  of  each  picking 
where  and  what  it  liked,  taking  just  as  much  as  it  wanted, 
and  no  more)  you  should  see  ninety-nine  of  them  gathering 
all  they  got  into  a  heap  ;  reserving  nothing  for  themselves 
but  the  chaff  and  the  refuse;  keeping  this  heap  for  one,  and 
that  the  weakest,  perhaps  worst,  of  the  flock ;  sitting  round, 
and  looking  on,  all  the  winter,  whilst  this  one  was  devoi^ring, 
throwing  about,  and  wasting  it;  and  if  a  pigeon,  more  hardy 
or  hungry  than  the  rest,  touched  a  grain  of  the  hoard,  all  the 
others  instantly  flying  upon  it,  and  tearing  it  to  pieces ;  if 
you  should  see  this,  you  would  see  nothing  more  than  what 

*  See  Tacitus  in  the  opening  of  his  ''History;"  and  the  beginning 
or  Paley's  Natural  Theology. 


160  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

is  every  day  practiced  and  established  among  men.  Among 
men  you  see  the  ninety  and  nine  toiling  and  scraping  to- 1 
gether  a  heap  of  superfluities  for  one ;  (and  this  one,  too, 
oftentimes  the  feeblest  and  worst  of  the  whole  set,  a  child,  a 
woman,  a  madman,  or  a  fool;)  getting  nothing  for  themselves 
all  the  while,  but  a  little  of  the  coarsest  of  the  provision 
which  their  own  industry  produces ;  looking  quietly  on, 
wkile  they  see  the  fruits  of  all  their  labor  spent  or  spoiled; 
and  if  one  of  the  number  take  or  touch  a  particle  of  the  hoard, 
the  others  joining  against  him,  and  hanging  him  for  the 
theft. 

*'  There  must  be  some  very  important  advantages  to  account 
for  an  institution  which,  in  the  view  of  it  above  given,  is  so 
paradoxical  and  unnatural. 

"  The  principal  of  these  advantages  are  the  following :"  etc.* 
3dly.  What  may  be  called  an  "introduction  corrective,'^ 
is  also  in  frequent  use;  viz.,  to  show  that  the 
corrective °^     subject    has    been    neglected,    misunderstood,    or 
misrejyresented   by   others.     This   will,  in   many 
cases,  remove  a  most  formidable  obstacle  in  the  hearer's  mind, 
the  anticipation  of  triteness,  if  the  subject  be,  or  may  be  sup- 
posed to  be,  a  hackneyed  one;  and  it  may  also  serve  to  re- 
move or  loosen  such  prejudices  as  might  be  adverse  to  the 
favorable  reception  of  our  arguments. 

4thly.  It  will  often  happen,  also,  that  there  may  be  need 
to  explain  some  pecidiarity  in  the  mode  of  reason- 
preml-aforv^     '^^^  ^^  ^^  adopted;  to  guard  against  some  pos- 
sible mistake  as  to  the  object  proposed;  or  to 
apologize  for  some  deficiency.     This  may  be  called  the  "in- 
troduction preparatory." 

5thly,  and  lastly,  in  many  cases  there  will  be  occasion  for 
what  may  be  called  a  "narrative  introduction,'' 
narratiye!'°"  to  put  the  reader  or  hearer  in  possession  of  the 
outline  of  some  transaction,  or  the  description  of 
some  state  of  things,  to  which  references  and  allusions  are  to 
be  made  in  the  course  of  the  composition.  Thus,  in  preach- 
ing, it  is  generally  found  advisable  to  detail,  or  at  least  briefly 
to  sum  up,  a  portion  of  Scripture  history,  or  a  parable,  when 
either  of  these  is  made  the  subject  of  a  sermon. 

*  Paley's  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  III.,  Part  I.,  ch.  i.  and  ii. 


CII.  IV.,  §  3.]  CONVICTION.  161 

Two  or  more  of  the  introductions  that  have  been  mentioned 
are  often  combined;  especially  in  the  preface  to  a  work  of 
any  length. 

And  very  often  the  introduction  will  contain  appeals  to 
various  passions  and  feelings  in  the  hearers;  especially  a 
feeling  of  approbation  towards  the  speaker,  or  of  prejudice 
against  an  opponent  who  has  preceded  him ;  but  this  is,  as 
Aristotle  has  remarked,  not  confined  to  introductions. 

The  title  of  a  book  is  evidently  of  the  character  of  an  in- 
troduction;   being   indeed   somedmes    the   only 
one  :  so  that  what  has  been  just  said  respectinf*-  Titles  of 

introductions,  will,  for  the  most  part,  be  applf-  ^''''^''* 

cable  to  titles. 

It  is  a  matter  of  considerable  nicety  to  make  choice  of  a 
good  title  ;  neither  unattractive,  nor  yet  so  full  of  pretension 
as  either  to  excite  disgust  or  lead  to  disappointment.  It  is 
also,  in  one  respect,  more  important  than  the  exordium  of  a 
speech;  because  the  orator  who  has  opened  injudiciously  will 
yet  usually  obtain  a  hearing,  in  the  course  of  which  he  may 
recover  the  lost  ground ;  while  an  ill-chosen  title  may  prevent 
a  book  from  being  read  at  all. 

The  fliult  committed  in  respect  of  the  title  of  the  present 
work  is  alluded  to  in  the  beginning  of  the  Preface. 

§3. 

Concerning  the  "conclusion"  [peroration  of  the  Latins,  and 
epilogus  of  the  Greeks]  it  is  not  necessary  to  say 
much ;  since  the  general  rules,  that  it  should  be  Conclusions. 
neither  so  sudden  and  abrupt  as  to  induce  the  hearer  to  say, 
"I  did  not  know  he  was  going  to  leave  off,"  nor  again  so  lon<^ 
as  to  excite  impatience,  are  so  obvious  as  not  to  need  bein'i^- 
dwelt  on  at  large.  '^ 

Both  faults,  however,  are  common ;  and  the  latter,  both 
the  more  common  and  the  worse.  It  is  rather  more  common, 
because  the  writer  or  speaker  is  liable  to  find  fresh  and  fresh 
thoughts  occur  to  him  as  he  proceeds,  which  he  is  loath  to 
omit;  especially  if  he  have  not,  in  the  outset,  drawn  out,  on 
paper,  or  mentally,  (according  to  the  recommendation  for- 
merly given,)  a  skeleton  outline  of  his  discourse.  And  it  is 
also  a  worse  fault  than  the  other— the  abrupt  conclusion— bc- 
6 


1G2  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   I. 

cause  the  disappointment  caused  is  not,  as  in  that  case,  single^ 
but  repeated  and  prolonged.  And,  moreover,  it  not  only  ex- 
cites immediate  disapprobation,  but  weakens  in  the  hearers' 
minds  the  force  of  all  that  had  gone  before. 

The  caution  against  these  faults  is  evidently  far  the  more 
important  in  reference  to  a  discourse  orally  delivered,  because, 
to  a  reader,  the  eye  sufficiently  shows  the  approach  to  the 
end.  It  should  therefore  be  carefully  recollected  by  one  who 
is  delivering  orally  a  written  discourse,  that  though  to  him  it 
is  written,  it  is  not  so  to  his  hearers;  and  he  is  consequently 
in  danger  of  overlooking  a  fault  in  the  conclusion,  such  as  I 
have  been  speaking  of,  while  they  will  be  struck  by  it. 

In  all  compositions,  however,  it  is  an  advantage — though 
fiir  the  more  important  in  those  addressed  to  the  ear — that 
notice  should  be  given,  a  little,  and  but  a  little,  beforehand, 
of  the  approach  to  a  close;  by  saying,  "I  will  conclude  by 
remarking,"  etc.,  or  the  like;  and  the  closing  remark  should 
be  not  a  long  one,  and  should  be  not  the  least  important  and 
striking  of  the  whole  discourse ;  and  if  it  contain  a  com- 
pressed repetition  of  something  that  had  been  before  dwelt 
on,  this  is  all  the  better. 

Indeed,  in  any  composition  that  is  not  very  short,  the  most 
frequent  and  the  most  appropriate  kind  of  conclusion  is  a 
recapitulation,  either  of  the  whole,  of  of  part  of  the  argu- 
ments that  have  been  adduced :  respecting  which  a  remark 
has  been  made  at  the  end  of  Ch.  III.,  §  7. 

It  may  be  worth  while  here  to  remark  that  it  is  a  common 
fault  of  an  extemporary  speaker,  to  be  tempted,  by  finding 
himself  listened  to  with  attention  and  approbation,  to  go  on 
adding  another  and  another  sentence  (what  is  called,  in  the 
homely  language  of  the  jest,  "more  last  words")  after  he  had 
intended,  and  announced  his  intention,  to  bring  his  discourse 
to  a  close;  till  at  length  the  audience  becoming  manifestly 
weary  and  impatient,  he  is  forced  to  conclude  in  a  feeble  and 
spiritless  manner,  like  a  half-extinguished*  candle  going  out 
in  smoke.  Let  the  speaker  decide  beforehand  what  shall  be 
his  concluding  topic ;  and  let  him  premeditate  thoroughly, 
not  only  the  substance  of  it,  but  the  mode  of  treating  it,  and 
all  but  the  very  words ;  and  let  him  resolve  that  whatever 
liberty  he  may  reserve  to  himself  of  expanding  or  contracting 
other  parts  of  his  speech,  according  as  he  finds  the  hearers 


CII.  IV.,  §  3.]  CONVICTION.  163 

more  or  less  interested,  (which  is,  for  an  extemporary  speaker, 
natural  and  proper,)  he  will  strictly  adhere  to  his  original 
design  in  respect  of  what  he  has  fixed  on  for  his  conclusion ; 
and  that  whenever  he  shall  see  fit  to  arrive  at  that,  nothing 
shall  tempt  him  either  to  expand  it  beyond  what  he  had  de- 
termined on,  or  to  add  any  thing  else  beyond  it. 

Any  thing  relative  to  the  feelings  and  the  will,  that  may 
be  especially  appropriate  to  the  conclusion,  will  be  mentioned 
in  its  proper  place  in  the  ensuing  Part. 


1G4  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   n. 


PART  II. 

OF    PERSUASION 


CHAPTER   I, 

INTRODUCTORY. 


Persuasion,  properly  so  called,  i.  e.,  tlie  art  of  influenc- 
ing the  loill,  is  the  next  point  to  be  considered, 
persuasion^  And  Rhetoric  is  often  regarded  (as  was  formerly 
remarked)  in  a  more  limited  sense,  as  conversant 
about  this  head  alone.  But  even,  according  to  that  view,  the 
rules  above  laid  down  will  be  found  not  the  less,  relevant; 
since  the  conviction  of  the  understanding  (of  which  I  have 
hitherto  been  treating)  is  an  essential  jjar^  of  persuasion,  and 
will  generally  need  to  be  effected  by  the  arguments  of  the 
writer  or  speaker.  For  in  order  that  the  will  may  be  influ- 
enced, two  things  are  requisite:  viz.,  1,  that  the  proposed 
object  should  appear  desirable ;  and,  2,  that  the  means  sug- 
gested should  be  proved  to  be  conducive  to  the  attainment  of 
tliat  object;  and  this  last,  evidently,  must  depend  on  a  pro- 
cess of  reasoning.  In  order,  e.  g,,  to  induce  the  Grreeks  to 
unite  their  efforts  against  the  Persian  invader,  it  was  neces- 
sary both  to  prove  that  cooperation  could  alone  render  their 
resistance  effectual,  and  also  to  awaken  such  feelings. of  patri- 
otism and  abhorrence  of  a  foreign  yoke,  as  might  prompt 
them  to  make  these  combined  efforts.  For  it  is  evident  that, 
however  ardent  their  love  of  liberty,  they  would  make  no  ex- 
ertions if  they  apprehended  no  danger ;  or  if  they  thought 


CH.  I.,  §  1.]  PERSUASION.  165 

themselves  able,  separately,  to  defend  themselves,  they  would 

be  backward  to  join  the  confederacy;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 

that  if  they  were  wilHng  to  submit  to  the  Persian  yoke,  or 

valued  their  independence  less  than  their  present  ease,  the 

fullest  conviction  that  tlie  means  recommended  would  secure 

their  independence,  would  have  had  no  practical  effect. 

Persuasion,    therefore,    depends    on,    first,   argument,   (to 

prove  the  expediency  of  the  means  proposed.) 

J  ji         1    4.  •  n  w   A        1^    *•  Exhortation. 

and,  secondly,  what  is  usually  called  exiwrtation, 

i.  e.,  the  excitement  of  men  to  adopt  those  means,  by  repre- 
senting the  end  as  sufficiently  desirable.  It  will  happen, 
indeed,  not  unfrequently,  that  the  one  or  the  other  of  these 
objects  will  have  been  already,  either  wholly  or  in  part, 
accomplished ;  so  that  the  other  shall  be  the  only  one  that  it 
is  requisite  to  insist  on  :  viz.,  sometimes  the  hearers  will  be 
sufficiently  intent  on  the  pursuit  of  the  end,  and  will  be  in 
doubt  only  as  to  the  means  of  attaining  it ;  and  sometimes, 
again,  they  will  have  no  doubt  on  that  point,  but  will  be  in- 
different, or  not  sufficiently  ardent,  with  respect  to  the  pro- 
posed end,  and  will  need  to  be  stimulated  by  exhortations. 
Not  sufficiently  ardent,  I  have  said,  because  it  will  not  so 
often  happen  that  the  object  in  question  will  be  one  to  which 
they  are  totally  indifferent,  as  that  they  will,  practically  at 
least,  not  reckon  it,  or  not  feel  it,  to  be  worth  the  requisite 
pains.  No  one  is  absolutely  indifferent  about  the  attainment 
of  a  happy  immortality ;  and  yet  a  great  part  of  the  preacher's 
business  consists  in  exhortation,  i.  e.,  endeavoring  to  induce 
men  to  use  those  exertions  which  they  themselves  believe  to 
be  necessary  for  the  attainment  of  it. 

Aristotle,  and  many  other  writers,  have  spoken  of  appeals 
to  the  passions  as  an  unfair  mode  of  influencing 
the  hearers;  in  answer  to  which  Dr.  Campbell         rassions. 
has  remarked,  that  there  can  be  no  persuasion  without  an 
address  to  the  passions  ;*  and  it  is  evident,  from  what  has 

*  "To  say  that  it  is  possible  to  persuade  without  speaking  to  the 
passions,  is  but  at  best  a  kind  of  specious  nonsense.  The  coolest 
reasoner  always,  in  persuading,  addresseth  himself  to  the  passions 
some  way  or  other.  This  he  cannot  avoid  doing,  if  he  speak  to  the 
purpose.  To  make  me  believe,  it  is  enough  to  show  me  that  things 
are  so  :  to  make  me  act,  it  is  necessary  to  show  that  the  action  will 
answer  some  end.     That  can  never  be  an  end  to  me  which  gratifies 


166'  ELEMENTS    OF    RHETORIC.  [PART    II. 

been  just  said,  that  he  is  right,  if  under  the  term  passion  be 
included  every  active  principle  of  our  nature.  This,  how- 
ever, is  a  greater  latitude  of  meaning  than  belongs  even  to 
the  Greek  work  UdOy;  though  the  signification  of  that  is 
wider  than,  according  to  ordinary,  use,  that  of  our  term 
^^  passions." 

But  Aristotle  by  no  means  overlooked  the  necessity  with  a 
view  to  persuasion,  properly  so  termed,  of  calling 

Influence  of  into  action  some  motive  that  may  influence  the 
tlie  will.  -11      •     •        1   •        1  1  1         •  1 

will :  it  IS  plain  that  whenever  he  speaks  with 

reprobation  of  an  appeal  to  the  passions,  his  meaning  is,  the 
excitement  of  such  feelings  as  ought  not  to  influence  the  de- 
cision of  the  question  in  hand.  A  desire  to  do  justice  may 
be  called,  in  Dr.  Gampbeirs  wide  acceptation  of  the  term,  a 
'^passion"  or  ^^affec^ion;"  this  is  what  ought  to  influence  a 
judge;  and  no  one  would  ever  censure  a  pleader  for  striving 
to  excite  and  heighten  this  desire ;  but  if  the  decision  be  in- 
fluenced by  an  appeal  to  anger,  pity,  etc.,  the  feelings  thus 
excited  being  such  as  ought  not  to  have  operated,  the  judge 
must  be  allowed  to  have  been  unduly  biased.  And  that  this 
is  Aristotle's  meaning  is  evident  from  his  characterizing  the 

no  passion  or  affection  in  my  nature.  You  assure  me  '  It  is  for  my 
honor.'  Now  you  solicit  my  pride,  without  which  I  had  never  been 
able  to  understand  the  word.  You  say,  'It  is  for  my  interest.'  Now 
you  bespeak  my  self-love.  *It  is  for  the  public  good.'  Now  you 
rouse  my  patriotism.  'It  will  relieve  the  miserable.'  Now  you 
touch  my  pity.  So  far,  therefore,  is  it  from  being  an  unfair  method 
of  persuasion  to  move  the  passions,  that  there  is  no  persuasion  with- 
out moving  them. 

"  But  if  so  much  depend  on  passion,  where  is  the  scope  for  argu- 
ment? Before  I  answer  this  question,  let  it  be  observed  that,  in 
order  to  persuade,  there  are  two  things  which  must  be  carefully 
studied  by  the  orator.  The  first  is,  to  excite  some  desire  or  passion 
in  the  hearers;  tlie  second  is,  to  satisfy  their  judgment  that  there  is 
a  connection  between  the  action  to  which  he  would  persuade  them, 
and  the  gratification  of  the  desire  or  passion  which  he  excites.  This 
is  the  analysis  of  persuasion.  The  former  is  effected  by  communi- 
cating lively  and  glowing  ideas  of  the  object;  the  latter,  unless  so 
evident  of  itself  as  to  supersede  the  necessity,  by  presenting  the 
best  and  most  forcible  arguments  which  the  nature  of  the  subject 
.idmits.  In  the  one  lies  the  pathetic,  in  the  other  the  argumentative. 
These  incorporated  together  constitute  that  vehemence  of  contention 
to  which  the  greatest  exploits  of  eloquence  ought  doubtless  to  be 
ascribed." — CamjjbelVs  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric,  Book  I.,  ch.  vii.,  §  4. 


CII.  I.,  §  1.]  PERSUASION.  167 

introduction  of  such  topics  as  "foreign  to  the  matter  in 
hand/'*  It  is  evident,  also,  that  as  the  motives  which  ought 
to  operate  will  be  diiferent  in  different  cases,  the  same  may- 
be objectionable  and  not  fairly  admissible,  in'  one  case,  which 
in  another  would  be  perfectly  allowable. "[" 

An  instance  occurs  in  Thucydides,  in  which  this  is  very 
judiciously  and  neatly  pointed  out:  in  the  debate  respecting 
the  Mityleneans,  who  had  been  subdued  after  a  revolt,  Cleon 
is  introduced  contending  for  the  Jusf ice  of  inflicting  on  them 
capital  punishment ;  to  which  Diodorus  is  made  to  reply,  that 
the  Athenians  are  not  sitting  in  judgment  on  the  offenders, 
but  in  deUheration  as  to  their  own  interest ;  and  ought,  there- 
fore, to  consider,  not  the  right  they  may  have  to  put  the  re- 

*  'Y.^(jj  Tov  TTpdy/j,aTog. 

f  See  the  Treatise  on  Fallacies,  §  14.  The  following  very  sensi- 
ble remarks  on  this  subject  are  extracted  from  an  article  in  the  Edin- 
burgh Review:  "A^  to  all  truths  capable  of  being  established  by 
evidence  either  on  certain  or  probable  grounds,  God  has  given  us  tJie 
faculty  of  judging  of  that  evidence,  as  the  instrument  of  obtaining 
a  belief  in  them.  Any  belief  acquired  not  through  the  use  of  this 
instrument,  but  by  pressing  into  the  service  faculties  intended  for 
other  purposes,  be  the  subject  of  belief  never  so  true,  rests  on  de- 
fective grounds  as  regards  the  party  believing.  If  truth  have  really 
any  objective  existence  at  all — if  it  be  any  thing  more  than  that 
which  every  man  trozvcth — it  is  the  merest  truism  to  say,  that  to  be- 
lieve as  truth  that  which  is  established  on  slight  evidence  or  no  evi- 
dence, or  arguments  addressed  to  the  conscience  and  not  to  the  rea- 
son, may  be  an  act  piously  done,  but  must  proceed  from  a  neglect  of 
that  portion  of  the  faculties  which  are  specially  assigned  to  us  by 
our  Creator  for  that  special  purpose.  This  is  an  error  which  may 
often  lead  to  good  results  in  particular  cases,  as  it  has  led,  and  still 
leads,  to  fearful  evils  in  many  others ;  but  all  the  sophistry  in  the 

world  cannot  make  it  other  than  an  error He  [Loyola]  fixes 

on  a  particular  defect  in  human  nature  as  a  means  of  government, 
and  consequentl}'-  as  something  to  be  encouraged  and  cultivated.  lie 
would  have  obedience,  as  far  as  possible,  comprehend  the  acts  of 
judgment,  as  well  as  the  acts  of  the  Avill.  He  would  have  men  strive 
to  give  a  false  bias  to  their  minds ;  to  stifle  the  light  within  them. 
He  is  not  content  with  knowing  that  they  tvill  do  so,  and  availing 
himself  of  the  weakness :  he  would  implant  it  in  them  as  a  principle. 

"  It  would  take  but  a  short  process  to  show  that  it  is  this  fatal 
notion  of  governing  men  by  their  failings  which  has  led,  in  the  main, 
to  all  the  perverse  and  irreligious  portions  of  the  developments  of 
Jesuitism;  to  condescensions  to  every  weakness,  apologies  for  every 
crime,  and  serious  defences  of  every  unnatural  absurdity." — Edin- 
burgh Review^  AprD,  1815. 


168  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

volters  to  death,  but  the  expedienci/  or  inexpediency  of  such 
a  procedure.'*' 

In  judicial  cases,  on  the  contrary,  any  appeal  to  the  per- 
sonal interests  of  the  judge,  or  even  to  public  expediency, 
would  be  irrelevant.  In  framing  laws,  indeed,  and  (which 
comes  to  the  same  thing)  giving  those  decisions  which  are  to 
operate  as  precedents,  the  public  good  is  the  object  to  be  pur- 
sued ;  but  in  the  mere  administering  of  the  established  laws, 
it  is  inadmissible. 

There  arc  many  feelings,  again,  which  it  is  evident  should 
in  no  case  be  allowed  to  operate ;  as  envy,  thirst 
Improper  fQj.  reA^enge,  etc.,  the  excitement  of  which  by  the 
orator  is  to  be  reprobated  as  an  unfair  artifice  ] 
but  it  is  not  the  less  necessary  to  be  well  acquainted  with 
their  nature,  in  order  to  allay  them  when  previously  existing 
in  the  hearers,  or  to  counteract  the  efforts  of  an  adversary  in 
producing  or  directing  them.  It  is  evident,  indeed,  that  all 
the  weaknesses,  as  well  as  the  powers,  of  the  human  mind, 
and  all  the  arts  by  which  the  sophist  takes  advantage  of 
these  weaknesses,  must  be  familiarly  known  by  a  perfect  ora- 
tor ;  who,  though  he  may  be  of  such  a  character  as  to  dis- 
dain employing  such  arts,  must  not  want  the  ability  to  do  so,  ^ 
or  he  would  not  be  prepared  to  counteract  them.  An  ac- 
quaintance with  the  nature  of  poisons  is  necessary  to  him 
who  would  administer  antidotes. 


There  is,  I  conceive,  no  point  in  which  the 

isting'^against    icl^a  of  dislionest  artifice  is  in  most  people's  minds 

excitement  of  go  intimately  associated  with  that  of  Rhetoric, 

as  the  address  to  the  feelings,  or  active  princi- 

*  Much  declamation  may  be  heard  in  the  present  day  against  "ex- 
pediency," as  if  it  were  not  the  proper  object  of  a  deliberative  assem- 
bly, and  as  if  it  were  only  pursued  by  the  unprincipled.  And  this 
kind  of  declamation  is  represented  as  a  sign  of  superior  moral  recti- 
tude ;  though  in  truth  it  implies  very  unsound  morality,  in  any  one 
who  is  not  led  into  it  through  mere  confusion  of  thought  and  inaccu- 
racy of  language. 

I  have  accordingly  thought  it  advisable  to  insert  in  the  Appendix 
[GG]  a  passage  relating  to  the  subject,  extracted  from  a  speech  de- 
livered in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  afterwards  introduced  into  a 
charge. 


CH.  l.j  §  2.]  PERSUASION.  169 

pies  of  our  nature.  This  is  usually  stigmatized  as  '^  an  ap- 
peal to  the  passions  instead  of  the  reason  j"  as  if  reason  alone 
could  ever  influence  the  will,  and  operate  as  a  motive ;  which 
it  no  more  can,  than  the  eyes,  which  show  a  man  his  road, 
can  enable  him  to  move  from  place  to  place ;  or  than  a  ship 
provided  with  a  compass  can  sail  without  a  wind.  It  may  be 
said  indeed,  with  truth,  that  an  orator  does  often  influence 
the  will  by  improper  appeals  to  the  passions ;  but  it  is  no  less 
true  that  he  often  imposes  on  the  understanding  of  his  hear- 
ers by  sophistical  argiunents ;  yet  this  does  not  authorize  us 
to  reprobate  the  employment  of  argument.  But  it  seems  to 
be  commonly  taken  for  granted,  that  whenever  the  feelings 
are  excited,  they  are  of  course  ovcr-excitcd.  Now  so  far  is 
this  from  the  fact — so  far  is  it  from  being  true  that  men  are 
universally,  or  even  generally,  in  danger  of  being  misled  in 
conduct  by  an  excess  of  feeling — that  the  reverse  is  at  least 
as  often  the  case.  The  more  generous  feelings,  such  as  com- 
passion, gratitude^  devotion,  nay,  even  rational  and  riglitly- 
dircctcd  self-love,  hope,  and  fear,  are  oftener  defective  than 
excessive ;  and  that  even  in  the  estimation  of  the  parties 
themselves,  if  they  are  well-principled,  judicious,  reflective, 
and  candid  men.  Do  the  feelings  of  such  a  man,  when  con- 
templating, for  instance,  the  doctrines  and  the  promises  of 
the  Christian  religion,  usually  come  up  to  the  standard  which 
he  himself  thinks  reasonable  ?  And  not  only  in  the  case  of 
religion,  but  in  many  others  also,  a  man  will  often  wonder  at, 
and  be  rather  ashamed  of,  the  coldness  and  languor  of  his 
own  feelings,  compared  with  what  the  occasion  calls  for ;  and 
even  make  efforts  to  rouse  in  himself  such  emotions  as  he  is 
conscious  his  reason  would  approve. 

In  making  such  an  effort,  a  curious  and  important  fact  is 
forced  on  tlae  attention  of  every  one  who  reflects  on  the 
operations  of  his  own  mind;  viz.,  that  the  feelings,  propensi- 
ties, and  sentiments  of  our  nature  are  not,  like  the  intellect- 
ual faculties,  under  the  direct  control  of  volition. 
The  distinction  is  much  the  same  as  between  the   Thesenti- 

1  t      ^         •  ^  '  r»    Try  ments.  CtC, 

voluntary  and  the  involuntary  actions  of  dmerent   not  under  the 
parts  of  the  body.     One  may,  by  a  deliberate  act  ofUiewiu!^*^^ 
of  the  will,  set  himself  to  calculate,  to  reason,  to 
recall  historical  fiicts,  etc.,  just  as  he  does  to  move  any  of 


170  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

his  limbs :  on  the  other  hand,  a  volition  to  hope  or  fear,  to 
love  or  hate,  to  feel  devotion  or  pity,  and  the  like,  is  as  inef- 
fectual as  to  will  that  the  pulsations  of  the  heart,  or  the  secre- 
tions of  the  liver,  should  be  altered.  Many  indeed  are,  I 
believe,  (strange  as  it  would  seem,)  not  aware  of  the  total 
inefficacy  of  their  own  efforts  of  volition  in  such  cases :  that 
is,  they  mistake  for  a  feeling  of  gratitude,  compassion,  etc., 
their  voluntary  reflections  on  the  subject,  and  their  conviction 
that  the  case  is  one  which  calls  for  gratitude  or  compassion. 
A  very  moderate  degree  of  attention,  however,  to  what  is 
passing  in  the  mind,  will  enable  any  one  to  perceive  the  dif- 
ference. A  blind  man  may  be  fully  convinced  that  a  soldier's 
coat  is  of  a  different  color  from  a  coal ;  and  this  his  convic- 
tion is  not  more  distinct  from  a  perception  of  the  colors,  than 
a  belief  that  some  one  is  very  much  to  he  pitied,  from  a  feel- 
ing of  pity  for  him. 

It  is  a  very  strange  thing,  certainly,  that  men  should  be  so. 
often  greatly  self-deceived  in  respect  of  their  own  feelings ; 
and  still  more  strange  perhaps  that  this  self-deceit,  consider- 
ing how  very  common  it  is,  should  have  been  seldom  if  ever 
noticed.  Many  a  man  would  be  most  indignant  at  having  it 
suggested,  when  he  professes  himself  '■'■  very  glad'^  of  this, 
and  •'  very  sorry'^  for  that,  (speaking  with  perfect  sincerity 
lis  far  as  his  own  belief  goes,)  that  his  feelings  are  in  truth 
the  reverse  :  that  the  event  which  he  professes  to  rejoice  at, 
and  which  perhaps  he  would  really,  from  conscientious  mo- 
tives, have  exerted  himself  to  bring  about,  does  in  reality 
mortify  and  annoy  him ;  and  that  he  feels^  an  inward  relief 
and  satisfaction  at  that  which  he  professes,  and  believes  him- 
self to  lament.  But  let  any  one  carefully  and  candidly  look 
around  him,  and  look  within  himself,  and  he  will  see  reason 
for  assenting  to  what  has  been  here  said.  Of  course  this 
kind  of  self-deceit  is  the  more  likely  to  occur,  and  the  less 
likely  to  be  detected,-  when  it  happens,  as  it  often  will,  that 
there  is  a  mixture  of  truth  with  error.  We  are  often  really 
under  the  influence  of  different  and  even  opposite  emotions 
at  once  :  e.  g.,  we  are  in  some  respects  gratified,  and  in  others 
pained,  by  the  same  occurrence ;  and  it  is  in  such  cases  most 
natural  to  imagine  ourselves  wholly  under  the  influence  of 
the  feeling  which  our  reason  approves. 


CH.  I.,  §  2.]  PERSUASION.  171 

How  then  is  the  difficulty  to  be  surmounted  which  arises 
from  the  feelinc;s  not  beino;  Tany  more  than  cer-  • 

tain  muscles)  under  the  direct  control  of  the  will  ?  feelings  arc 
Good  sense  su2:gests,  in  each  case,  an  analogous  ^obe^ 
remedy.  It  is  in  vain  to  form  a  will  to  quicken 
or  lower  the  circulation ;  but  we  may,  by  a  voluntary  act, 
swallow  a  medicine  which  will  have  that  effect ;  and  so  also, 
though  we  cannot,  by  a  direct  effort  of  volition,  excite  or 
allay  any  sentiment  or  emotion,  we  may,  by  a  voluntary  act, 
fill  the  understanding  with  such  thoughts  as  shall  operate  on 
the  feelings.  Thus,  by  attentively  studying  and  meditating 
on  the  history  of  some  extraordinary  personage — by  contem- 
plating and  dwelling  on  his  actions  and  sufferings,  his  virtues 
and  his  wisdom,  and  by  calling  on  the  imagination  to  present 
a  vivid  picture  of  all  that  is  related  and  referred  to — in  this 
manner,  we  may  at  length  succeed  in  kindling  such  feelings, 
suppose,  of  reverence,  admiration,  gratitude,  love,  hope,  emu- 
lation, etc.,  as  we  were  already  prepared  to  acknowledge  arc 
suitable  to  the  case.  So,  again,  if  a  man  of  sense  wishes  to 
allay  in  himself  any  emotion,  that  of  resentment  for  instance, 
though  it  is  not  under  the  direct  control  of  the  will,  he  de- 
liberately sets  himself  to  reflect  on  the  softening  circumstances; 
such  as  the  provocations  the  other  party  may  suppose  him- 
self to  have  re(5eived ;  perhaps  his  ignorance,  or  weakness, 
or  disordered  state  of  health :  he  endeavors  to  imagine  him- 
self in  the  place  of  the  offending  party ;  and  above  all,  if  he 
is  a  sincere  Christian,  he  meditates  on  the  parable  of  the 
debtor  who,  after  having  been  himself  forgiven,  claimed  pay- 
ment with  rigid  severity  from  his  fellow-servant;  and  on 
other  similar  lessons  of  Scripture. 

Now  in  any  such  process  as  this,  (which  is  exactly  analo- 
gous to  that  of  taking  a  medicine  that  is  to  ope- 
rate on  the  involuntary  bodily  organs,)  a  process   sense^prac- 
to  which  a  man  of  well-regulated  mind  continu-   tices  Riietoric 
ally  finds  occasion  to  resort,  he  is  precisely  acting 
the  part  of  a  skilful  orator,  to  himself;  and  that,  too,  in  re- 
spect of  the  very  point  to  which  the  most  invidious  names 
are  usually  given,  'Hhe  appeal  to  the  feelings.'' 

Such  being  then  the  state  of  the  case,  how,  it  may  be 
said,  can  it  be  accounted  for,  that  the  idea  of  unfair  artifice 
should  be  so  commonly  associated  not  only  with  Rhetoric  in 


172  ELEMENTS    OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

general,  but  most  especially  witli  that  particular  part  of  it 
new  under  consideration '/  though  no  other  artifice  is  neces- 
sarily employed  by  the  orator  than  a  man  of  sense  makes  use 
of  towards  himself. 

Many  difi"erent  circumstances  combine  to  produce  this 
effect.  In  the  first  place,  the  intellectual  powers  being,  as 
has  been  said,  under  the  immediate  control  of  the  will, 
which  the  feelings,  sentiments,  etc.,  are  not,  an  address  to  the 
understanding  is  consequently,  from  the  nature  of  the  case, 

.  , ,  ,  direct ;  to  the  feelings,  indirect.  The  conclu- 
AddrGss  to  .  •  o  / 

the  feelings  sion  you  wish  to  draw,  you  may  state  plainly,  as 
indirect.  such  j    and    avow  your  intention    of  producing 

reasons  which  shall  effect  a  conviction  of  that  conclusion  : 
you  may  even  entreat  the  hearers'  steady  attention  to  the 
point  to  be  proved,  and  to  the  process  of  argument  by  which 
it  is  to  be  established.  But  this,  for  the  reasons  above  men- 
tioned, is  widely  different  from  the  process  by  which  we  ope- 
rate on  the  feelings.  No  passion,  sentiment,  or  emotion  is 
excited  by  thinking  about  it,  and  attending  to  it;  but  by 
thinking  about,  and  attending  to,  such  objects  as  are  calcu- 
lated to  awaken  it.  Hence  it  is,  that  the  more  oblique  and 
indirect  process  which  takes  place  when  we  are  addressing 
ourselves  to  this  part  of  the  human  mind,  is  apt  to  suggest 
the  idea  of  trick  and  artifice;  although  it  is,  as  I  have  said, 
just  such  as  a  wise  man  practices  towards  himself. 

In  the  next  place,  though  men  are  often  deluded  by  sophis- 
Deiusions  of  tical  arguments  addressed  to  the  understanding, 
tiie  under-  they  do  not,  in  this  case,  so  readily  detect  the 
harder  To  de-  deceit  that  has  been  practiced  on  them,  as  they 
^^'^'-  do  in  the  case  of  their  being  misled  by  the  ex- 

citement of  passions.  A  few  days,  or  even  hours,  will  often 
allow  them  to  cool,  sufiiciently,  to  view  in  very  different  colors 
some  question  on  which  they  have  perhaps  decided  in  a 
moment  of  excitement ;  whereas  any  sophistical  reasoning  by 
which  they  have  been  misled,  they  are  perhaps  as  unable  to 
detect  as  ever.  The  stai;^  of  the  feelings,  in  short,  varies 
from  day  to  day ;  the  understanding  remains  nearly  the  same; 
and  hence  the  idea  of  deceit  is  more  particularly  associated 
with  that  kind  of  deceit  which  is  the  less  permanent  in  its 
effects,  and  the  sooner  detected. 

To  these  considerations  it  may  be  added,  that  men  have  in 


CH.  I.,  §  2.]  PERSUASION.  173 

general  more  confidence  in  the  soundness  of  their  Men  distrust 
understandino;  than  in  their  self-command  and  J^o':*^  t^^^j'" 
due  regulation  of  feelings ;  they  are  more  un-  tiieir  under- 
willing,  consequently,  to  believe  that  an  orator  ^tanduig. 
has  misled  or  can  mislead  them  by  sophistical  arguments — 
that  is,  by  taking  advantage  of  their  intellectual  weakness — 
than  by  operating  on  their  feelings ;  and  hence,  the  delusions 
which  an  artful  orator  produces  are  often  attributed  in  a 
greater  degree  than  is  really  the  case,  to  the  influence  he  has 
exerted  on  the  passions. 

But  if  every  thing  were  to  be  regarded  with  aversion  or 
with  suspicion  that  is  capable  of  being  employed  rphe  feeiin<?s 
dishonestly,  or  for  a  bad  purpose,  the  use  of  Ian-  as  apt  to  fall 
guage  might  be  condemned  altogether.  It  does  exceed,'the 
indeed  often  happen  that  men's  feelings  are  ex-  Proper  pomt. 
travagantly  excited  on  some  inadequate  occasion  :  this  only 
proves  how  important  it  is  that  either  they,  or  the  person 
who  undertakes  to  advise  them,  should  understand  how  to 
bring  down  these  feelings  to  the  proper  pitch.  And  it  hap- 
pens full  as  often  (which  is  what  most  persons  are  apt  to 
overlook)  that  their  feelings  fall  far  short  of  what,  even  in 
their  own  judgment,  the  occasion  would  call  for;  and  in  this 
case  an  excitement  of  such  feelings,  though  not  effected  di- 
rectly by  a  process  of  reasoning,  is  very,  far  from  being  any 
thing  op2)oscd  to  reason,  or  tending  to  mislead  the  judgment. 
Stimulants  are  not  to  be  condemned  as  necessarily  bringing 
the  body  into  an  unriatural  state  because  they  raise  the  cir- 
culation :  in  a  fever  this  would  be  hurtful ;  but  there  may 
be  a  torpid,  lethargic  disease,  in  which  an  excitement  of  the 
circulation  is  precisely  what  is  wanted  to  bring  it  into  a 
healthy  condition. 

"When,  however,  it  is  said  that  a  good  and  wise  man  often 
has  to  act  the  part  of  an  orator  towards  himself, 
in  respect  of  that  very  point — the  excitement  of    i,eln|  misled 
the  feclinciis— which  in  many  minds  is  the  most    by  one's  own 

.  .  "    .  .  .       in'^'enuity. 

associated  with  the  idea  of  dishonest  artifice,  it 
must  not  be  forgotten  that  a  man  is  in  danger — the  more,  in 
propor.tion  to  his  abilities — of  exercising  on  himself,  when 
under  the  influence  of  some  passion,  a  most  pernicious  ora- 
torical power,  by  pleading  the  cause,  as  it  were,  before  him- 
self, of  that  passion.     Suppose  it  anger,  e.  g.,  that  he  is  feel- 


174  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

ing :  lie  is  naturally  disposed  to  dwell  on  and  amplify  the 
aggravating  circumstances  of  the  supposed  provocation,  so  as 
to  make  out  a  good  case  for  himself;  a  representation  such 
as  may — or  might,  if  needed — serve  to  vindicate  him  in  the 
eyes  of  a  bystander,  and  to  give  him  the  advantage  in  a  con- 
troversy. This  of  course  tends  to  lieigliten  his  resentment, 
and  to  satisfy  him  that  he  "doth  well  to  be  angry;''  or  per- 
haps to  persuade  him  that  he  is  not  angry,  but  is  a  model 
of  patience  under  intolerable  wrongs.  And  the  man  of 
superior  ingenuity  and  eloquence  will  do  this  more  skilfully 
than  an  ordinary  man,  and  will  thence  be  likely  to  be  the 
more  effectually  self-deceived;  for  though  he  may  be  superior 
to  the  other  in  judgment,  as  well  as  in  ingenuity,  it  is  to  be 
remembered  that  while  his  judgment  is  likely  to  be,  in  his 
own  cause,  biased,  and  partially  blinded,  his  ingenuity  is 
called  forth  tq^the  utmost. 

And  the  like  takes  place,  if  it  be  selfish  cupidity,  unjust 
partiality  in  favor  of  a  relative  or  friend,  party  spirit,  or  any 
other  passion,  that  may  be  operating.  For,  universally,  men 
are  but  too  apt  to  take  more  pains  in  justifying  their  propen- 
sities, than  it  would  cost  to  control  them.  And  a  man  of 
superior  powers  will  often  be  in  this  way  entrapped  by  his 
own  ingenuity,  like  a  spider  entangled  in  the  web  she  has 
herself  spun.  Most,  persons  are  fearful,  even  to  excess,  of 
being  misled  by  the  eloquence  of  another  ;*  but  an  ingenious 
reasoner  ought  to  be  especially  fearful  of  his  own.  There  is 
no  one  whom  he  is  likely  so  much  and  so  hurtfully  to  mis- 
lead as  himself,  if  he  be  not  sedulously  on  his  guard  against 
this  self-deceit. 

§3. 
^.  .  .       „  The  active  principles  of  our  nature  may  be 

Division  of  .  >■  .  ^  ^       m-i  ^ 

active  prin-       classcd    in    various    ways.       The    arrangement 

cipies.  adopted  by  Mr.  Dugald  Stewartf  is,  perhaps,  the 

*  I  have  known  a  man  accordingly  shun  the  acquaintance  of  an- 
other of  whom  he  knew  no  harm,  solely  from  his  dread  of  him  as  a. 
man  who,  he  imagined,  ^' could  prove  any  thing."  Men  of  a  low 
tone  of  morality,  judging  from  themselves,  take  for  granted  that 
whoever  "has  a  giant's  strength"  will  not  scruple  to  "use  it  like  a 
giant." 

f  Outlines  of  Moral  Philosophy. 


CH.  I.,  §  3.]  PERSUASION.  175 

most  correct  and  convenient :  the  heads  he  enumerates  are 
appetites,  (which  have  their  origin  in  the  body,)  desires,  and 
affections;  these  last  being  such  as  imply  some  kind  of  dis- 
position relative  to  another  person  ;  to  which  must  be  added 
self-love,  or  the  desire  of  happiness,  as  such ;  and  the  moral 
faculty,  called  by  some  writers  conscience,  by  others  con- 
scientiousness, by  «>thers  the  moral  sense,  and  by  Dr.  A.  Smitli 
the  sense  of  propriety. 

Under  the  head  of  affections  may  be  included  the  senti- 
ments of  esteem,  regard,  admiration,  etc.,  which  it  is  so  im- 
portant that  the  audience  should  feel  towards  the  speaker. 
Aristotle  has  considered  this  as  a  distinct  head ;  separating 
the  consideration  of  the  speaker's  character  {^IWog  rev  Uyov- 
rog)  from  that  of  the  disposition  of  the  hearers  ;  under  which, 
however,  it  might,  according  to  his  own  views,  have  been  in- 
cluded ;  it  being  plain  from  his  manner  of  treatini?  of  the 
speaker's  character,  that  he  means,  not  his  real  character, 
(according  to  the  fanciful  notion  of  Quinctilian,)  but  the  im- 
pression produced  on  the  minds  of  the  hearers,  by  the  speaker, 
respecting  himself. 

He  remarks,  justly,  that  the  character  to  be  established  is 
that  of,  first,  good  principle;  secondly,  good  sense; 
and,  thirdly,  good  will  and  friendly  disposition  SSab-""  ^"^ 
towards  the  audience  addressed;*  and  that  if  the  lishe/bythe 
orator  can  completely  succeed  in  this,  he  will  per-  '^P*'''^^^; 
suade  more  powerfully  than  by  the  strongest  arouments.  He 
might  have  added,  (as  indeed  he  does  ^slightly  hint,  at  the 
conclusion  of  his  treatise,)  that,  where  there  is  an  opponent,  a 
like  result  is  produced  by  exciting  the  contrary  feelincrs  re- 
specting him ;  viz.,  holding  him  up  to  contempt,  or  repre- 
senting him  as  an  object  of  reprobation  or  suspicion. 

To  treat  fully  of  all  the  different  emotions  and  sprinijs  of 
action  which  an  orator  may  at  any  time  find  it  necessary  to 
call  into  play,  or  to  contend  against,  would  be  to  enter  on  an 
almost  boundless  field  of  metaphysical  inquiry,  which  does 
not  properly  fall  within  the  limits  of  the  subject  now  before 
us;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  a  />rzV/ definition  of  each  passion, 
etc.,  and  a  few  general  remarks  on  it,  could  hardly  fail  to  be 
trite  and  uninteresting.     A  few  miscellaneous  rules  therefore 


■X-  ' 


Aper;/,  ^povrjaig,  Evvoia,  Book  II.,  cli. 


176  ELEMENTS    OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

may  suffice,  relative  to  the  conduct,  generally,  of  those  parts 
of  any  composition  which  are  designed  to  influence  the  will. 


CHAPTER   II. 

OF  THE  CONDUCT  OF  ANY  ADDRESS  TO  THE  FEELINGS, 

GENERALLY. 

t 

§  1- 

The  first  and  most  important  point  to  be  observed  in  every 
Menimpa-  address  to  any  passion,  sentiment,  feeling,  etc.,  is, 
tient  of  dicta-  (as  has  been  already  hinted,)  that  it  should  not 
of  their  ^^^^*^  be  introduced  as  such,  and  plainly  avowed ;  other- 
feelings,  -^yise  the  effect  will  be,  in  great  measure,  if  not 
entirely,  lost.  This  circumstance  forms  a  remarkable  distinc- 
tion between  the  head  now  under  consideration,  and  that  of 
argumentation.  When  engaged  in  reasoning,  properly  so 
called,  our  purpose  not  only  need  not  be  concealed,  but  may, 
(as  I  have  said,)  without  prejudice  to  the  effect,  be  distinctly 
declared :  on  the  other  hand,  even  when  the  feelings  we  wish 
to  excite  are  such  as  ought  to  operate,  so  that  there  is  no 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  the  endeavors  thus  to  influence  the 
hearer,  still  our  purpose  and  drift  should  be,  if  not  absolutely 
concealed,  yet  not  openly  declared  and  made  prominent. 
Whether  the  motives  which  the  orator  is  endeavoring  to  call 
into  action  be  suitable  or  unsuitable  to  the  occasion — such  as 
it  is  right,  or  wrong,  for  the  hearer  to  act  upon — the  same 
rule  will  hold  good.  In  the  latter  case,  it  is  plain  that  the 
speaker  who  is  seeking  to  bias  unfairly  the  minds  of  the  au- 
dience, will  be  the  more  likely  to  succeed  by  going  to  work 
clandestinely,  in  order  that  his  hearers  may  not  be  on  their 
guard,  and  prepare  and  fortify  their  minds  against  the  im- 
pression he  wishes  to  produce.  In  the  other  case — where 
the  motives  dwelt  on  are  such  as  ought  to  be  present,  and 
strongly  to  operate — men  are  not  likely  to  be  pleased  with  the 
idea  that  they  need  to  have  these  motives  urged  upon  them, 
and  that  they  are  not  already  sufficiently  under  the  influence 
of  such  sentiments  as  the  occasion  calls  for.     A  man  may 


CH.  II.,  §  1.]  PERSUASION.  '  177 

indeed  be  convinced  that  lie  is  in  such  a  predicament,  and 
may  ultimately  feel  obliged  to  the  orator  for  exciting  or 
strengthening  such  sentiments ;  but  while  he  confesses  this, 
he  cannot  but  feel  a  degree  of  mortification  in  making  the 
confession,  and  a  kind  of  jealousy  of  the  apparent  assumption 
of  superiority  in  a  speaker  who  seems  to  say,  ''Now  I  will 
exhort  you  to  feel  as  you  ought  on  this  occasion^"  ''I  will 
endeavor  to  inspire  you  with  such  noble  and  generous  and 
amiable  sentiments  as  you  ought  to  entertain;"  w^hich  is,  in 
eifcct,  the  tone  of  him  who  avows  the  purpose  of  exhortation. 
The  mind  is  sure  to  revolt  from  the  humiliation  of  being  thus 
moulded  and  fashioned,  in  respect  to  its  feelings,  at  the  plea- 
sure .of  another;  and  is  apt,  perversely,  to  resist  the  influence 
of  such  a  discipline. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  such  implied  superiority  in 
avowing  the  intention  of  convincing  the  understanding.  Men 
know,  and  (what  is  more  to  the  purpose)  feel,  that  he  who 
presents  to  their  minds  a  new  and  cogent  train  of  argument, 
does  not  necessarily  possess  or  assume  any  offensive  supe- 
riority ;  but  may,  by  merely  having  devoted  a  particular  at- 
tention to  the  point  in  question,  succeed  in  setting  before 
them  arguments  and  explanations  which  have  not  occurred 
to  themselves.  And  even  if  the  arguments  adduced,  and  the 
conclusions  drawn,  should  be  opposite  to  those  with  which 
they  had  formerly  been  satisfied,  still  there  is  nothing  in 
this  so  humiliating,  as  in  that  which  seems  to  amount  to  the 
imputation  of  a  moral  deficiency. 

It  is  true  that  sermons  not  unfrequently  prove  pojmlavj 
which  consist  avowedly  and  almost  exclusively  of  exhortation, 
strictly  so   called — in  which   the   design  of  in- 
fluencing the  sentiments  and  feelings  is  not  only       a^aiS 
apparent,  but  prominent  throughout;  but  it  is  to       avowed  ex- 
be  feared  that  those  who  are  the  most  pleased 
with  such  discourses  are  more  apt  to  apply  these  exhortations 
to  their  neujlihors  than  to  themselves ;  and  that  each  bestows 
his  commendation  rather  from  the  consideration  that  such 
admonitions  are  much  needed,  and  must  be  generally  useful, 
than  from  finding  them  thus  useful  to  himself. 

When  indeed  the  speaker  has  made  some  progress  in  ex- 
citing the  feelings  required,  and  has  in  great  measure  gained 
possession  of  his  audience,  a  direct  and  distinct  exhortation 


178  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

to  adopt  the  conduct  recommended  will  often  prove  very 
effectual  J  but  never  can  it  be  needful  or  advisable  to  tell 
them  (as  some  do)  that  you  are  gointj  to  cxiwrt  them. 

It  will,  indeed,  sometimes  happen  that  the  excitement  of  a 
certain  feeling  will  depend,  in  some  measure,  on  the  process 
of  reasoning: :  e.  jr.,  it  may  be  requisite  to  prove,  where  there 
is  a  doubt  on  the  subject,  that  the  person  so  recommended  to 
the  pity,  gratitude,  etc.,  of  the  hearers,  is  really  an  object 
deserving  of  these  sentiments ;  but  even  then  it  will  almost 
always  be  the  case,  that  the  chief  point  to  be  accomplished 
shall  be  to  raise  those  feelings  to  the  requisite  height,  after 
the  understanding  is  convinced  that  the  occasion  calls  for 
them.  And  this  is  to  be  eflfectcd  not  by  argument,  properly 
so  called,  but  by  presenting  the  circumstances  in  such  a  point 
of  view,  and  so  fixing  and  detaining  the  attention  upon  them, 
that  corresponding  sentiments  and  emotions  shall  gradually, 
and  as  it  were  spontaneously,  arise. 

Sermons  would  probably  have  more  effect,  if,  instead  of 
being,  as  they  frecjuently  are,  directly  hortafon/, 
.JmiKms.^  they  were  more  in  a  didactic  form  ;  occupied 
chiefly  in  exjdaijiivg  some  transaction  related,  or 
doctrine  laid  down,  in  Scripture.  The  generality  of  hearers 
arc  too  mucli  familiarized  to  direct  exhortation  to  feel  it  ade- 
quately :  if  they  are  led  to  the  same  point  obliquely  as  it 
were,  and  induced  to  dwell  with  interest  for  a  considerable 
time  on  some  point,  closely,  though  incidentally,  connected 
with  the  most  awful  and  important  truths,  a  very  slight  appli- 
cation to  themselves  might  make  a  greater  impression  than  the 
most  vehement  appeal  in  the  outset.  Often  indeed  they  would 
themselves  make  this  application  unconsciously;  and  if  on  any 
this  procedure  made  no  impression,  it  can  hardly  be  expected 
that  any  thing  else  w^ould.  To  use  a  homely  illustration,  a 
moderate  charge  of  powder  will  have  more  eftcct  in  splitting 
a  rock,  if  we  begin  by  dccji  horinff  u,r\d  introducing  the  charge 
into  the  very  heart  of  it,  than  ten  times  the  quantity,  exploded 
on  the  surface. 


5 


9 


AfiY!inta"e  of        Ilf^^cc  ariscs  another  rule   closely  connected 
coj.ion.s"         with  the  foregoing,  though  it  also  so  far  relates  to 
style,  that  it  might  with  sufficient  propriety  have 


Ui'luil. 


CH.  II.,  §  2.]  PERSUASION.  179 

been  placed  under  that  head-;  viz.,  that  in  order  effectually 
to  excite  feelings  of  any  kind,  it  is  necessary  to  employ  some 
copiousness  of  detail,  and  to  dwell  somewhat  at  large  on  the 
several  circumstances  of  the  case  in  hand;  in  which  respect 
there  is  a  wide  distinction  between  strict  argumentation,  with 
ar  view  to  the  conviction  of  the  understanding  alone,  and  the 
attempt  to  influence  the  will,  by  the  excitement  of  any  emo- 
tion.* With  respect  to  argument  itself,  indeed,  different  occa- 
sions will  call  for  different  degrees  of  copiousness,  repetition, 
and  expansion;  the  chain  of  reasoning  employed  may,  in  itself, 
consist  of  more  or  fewer  links ;  abstruse  and  complex  arguments 
must  be  unfolded  at  greater  length  than  such  as  are  more 
simple;  and  the  more  uncultivated  the  audience,  the  more 
full  must  be  the  explanation  and  illustration,  and  the  more 
frequent  the  repetition,  of  the  arguments  presented  to  them; 
but  still  the  same  general  principle  prevails  in  all  these  cases; 
viz.,  to  aim  merely  at  letting  the  arguments  be  fully  under- 
stood and  admitted.  This  will  indeed  occupy  ix,  shorter  or 
longer  space,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  case  and  the 
character  of  the  hearers;  but  all  expansion  and  repetition 
hryond  what  is  necessary  to  accomplish  conviction,  is  in  every 
instance  tedious  and  disgusting.  In  a  description,  on  the 
other  hand,  of  any  thing  that  is  likely  to  act  on  the  feelings, 
this  effect  will  by  no  means  be  produced  as  soon  as  the  un- 
derstanding is  sufficiently  informed  ;  detail  and  expansion  are 
here  not  only  admissible,  but  indispensable,  in  order  that  the 
mind  may  have  leisure  and  opportunity  to  form  vivid  and 
distinct  ideas.  For  as  Quinctilian  well  observes,  he  who  tells 
us  that  a  city  was  sacked,  although  that  one  word  implies  all 
that  occurred,  will  produce  little  if  any  impression  on  the 
feelingSjf  in  comparison  of  one  who  sets  before  us  a  lively 

*  "  Non  onim,  sicu<  nrgumcntnm,  simulatquc  positum  e«t.  arripi- 
fur,  altcrurnquc  et  tertiura  poscitur ;  ita  misericordiam  aut  iuviJiam 
aut  iracundiam,  simulatquc  intuleris,  possis  commovcre:  argu- 
mentum  enim  ratio  ipsa  confirmat,  qua?,  simulatque  emissa  est,  ad- 
haerescit;  illnd  autem  genus  orationis  non  cognitionem  judicis,  sed 
magis  pcrfurbationem  rcquirit,  qiiam  conscqui,  nisi  multa  et  varia  et 
copiosa  oratione,  et  simili- contentione  actionis,  nemo  potest.  Quare 
qui  ant  breviter  aut  summisse  dicunt,  docerc  judiccm  possunt,  coni- 
niovcre  non  possunt ;  in  quo  sunt  oiuTiia." — Cic.  de  Oral.,  Lib.  II., 
C.  53. 

f  Dr.  Campbell  has  treated  very  ably  of  some  circumstances  which 


180  ELEMENTS    OF   RHETORIC.  [PART  II. 

description  of  tlie  various  lamentable  circumstances.  To  tell 
the  whole,  he  adds,  is  by  no  means  tlie  same  as  to  tell  every 
tiling. 

Accordingly  it  may  be  observed,  that  though  every  one 
understands" what  is  meant  by  a  "wound,"  there  are  some 
who  cannot  hear  a  minute  description  of  one  without  faint- 
ing. 

The  death  of  Patroclus  is  minutely  related  by  Homer,  for 
the  interest  of  the  reader ;  though  t.o  Achilles,  whose  feel- 
ings would  be  sufficiently  excited  by  the  bare  fact,  it  is  told 
in  two  words  :  KeXrai  UdrpoiiXog. 

There  is  an  instance  related  in  a  number  of  the  Adven- 
turer, of  a  whole  audience,  being  moved  to  tears  by  a  minute 
detail  of  the  circumstances  connected  with  the  death  of  a 
youthful  pair  at  the  battle  of  Fontenoy;  though  they  had- 
previously  listened  without  emotion  to  a  general  statement 
of  the  dreadful  carnage  in  that  engagement. 

It  is  not,  however,  with  a  view  to  the  feelings  only  that 
some  copiousness  of  detail  will  occasionally  be  needful :  it 
will  often  happen  that  the  judgment  cannot  be  correctly 
formed  without  dwelling  on  circumstances.  It  has  seldom 
if  ever  been  noticed,  how  important  among  the 
nSidfn'^''  intellectual  qualifications  for  the  study  of  his- 
tiie  study  of  tory  is  a  vivid  imagination  :  a  faculty  which  con- 
ns ory.  sequently  a  skilful  narrator  must  himself  possess, 
and  to  which  he  must  be  able  to  furnish  excitement  in  others. 
Some  may  perhaps  be  startled  at  this  remark,  who  have  been 
accustomed  to  consider  imagination  as  having  no  other  office 
than  to  feign  and  falsify.  Every  faculty  is  liable  to  abuse 
and  misdirection,  and  imagination  among  the  rest;  but  it  is 
a  mistake  to  suppose  that  it  necessarily  tends  to  pervert  the 
truth  of  history,  and  to  mislead  the  judgment.  On  the  con- 
trary, our  view  of  any  transaction,  especially  one  that  is  re- 
mote in  time  or  place,  will  necessarily  be  imperfect,  gener- 
ally incorrect,  unless  it  embrace  something  more  than  the 
bare  outline  of  the  occurrences ;  unless  we  have  before  the 
mind  a  lively  idea  of  the  scenes  in  which  the  events  took 
place,  the  habits  of  thought  and  of  feeling  of  the  actors,  and 


tend  to  heighten  any  impression.     The  reader  is  referred  to  the  Ap- 
pendix [H]  for  some  extracts. 


CH.  II.,  §  3.]  PERSUASION.  181 

all  the  circumstances  connected  witli  the  transaction  •  unles% 
in  short,  we  can  in  a  considerable  degree  transport  ourselves 
out  of  our  own  age,  and  country,  and  persons,  and  imagine 
ourselves  the  agents  or  spectators.  It  is  from  a  consideration 
of  all  these  circumstances  that  we  are  enabled  to  form  a  right 
judgment  as  to  the  facts  which  history  records,  and  to  derive 
instruction  from  it.*  What  we  imagine,  ma?/  indeed  be 
merely  imaginari/,  i.  e.,  unreal ;  but  it  may,  again,  be  what 
actually  docs  or  did  exist.  To  say  that  imagination,  if  not 
regulated  by  sound  judgment  and  sufficient  knowledge,  may 
chance  to  convey  to  us  false  impressions  of  past  events,  is 
only  to  say  that  man  is  fallible.  But  such  false  impressions 
arc  even  much  the  more  likely  to  take  possession  of  one  whose 
imagination  is  feeble  or  uncultivated.  He  will  be  apt  to  im- 
agine the  things,  persons,  times,  countries,  etc.,  which  he 
reads  of,  as  much  less  different  from  what  he  sees  around 
him  than  is  really  the  case.  And  hence  he  will  be  the  most 
liable  to  the  mistake  noticed  above,  [Part  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  2,] 
of  viewing  an  unnatural  representation  as  natural,  and  vice 
versd, 

§3. 

It  is  not  always  advisable  to  enter  into  a  direct  detail  of 
circumstances  ;  which  would  often  have  the  effect 
of  wearying  the  hearer  beforehand,  with  the  ex-  scrlpfion!^^" 
pectation  of  a  long  description  of  something  in 
which  he  probably  does  not,  as  yet,  feel  much  interest  ]  and 
would  also  be  likely  to  prepare  him  too  much,  and  forewarn 
him,  as  it  were,  of  the  object  proposed — the  design  laid 
against  his  feelings.  It  is  observed  by  opticians  and  astrono- 
mers that  a  side  view  of  a  faint  star,  or,  especially,  of  a 
comet,  presents  it  in  much  greater  brilliancy  than  a  direct 
view.  To  see  a  comet  in  its  full  splendor,  you  should  look 
not  straight  at  it,  but  at  some  star  a  little  beside  it.  Some- 
thing analogous  to  this  often  takes  place  in  mental  percep- 
tions. It  will  often,  therefore,  have  a  better  effect  to  describe 
obliquely,  (if  I  may  so  speak,)  by  introducing  circumstances 
connected  with  the  main  object  or  event,  and  affected  by  it, 
but  not  absolutely  forming  a  part  of  it.     And  circumstances 

*  See  Appendix,  [L] 


182  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

of  tliis  kind  may  not  unfrequently  be  so  selected  as  to  produce 
a  more  striking  impression  of  any  thing  tliat  is  in  itself  great 
and  remarkable,  than  could  be  produced  by  a  minute  and 
direct  description ;  because  in  this  way  the  general  and  col- 
lective result  of  a  tuhole,  and  the  effects  produced  by  it  on  other 
objects,  may  be  vividly  impressed  on  the  hearer's  mind;  the 
circumstantial  detail  of  collateral  matters  not  drawing  off  the 
mind  from  the  contemplation  of  the  principal  matter  as  one 
and  complete.  Thus,  the  woman's  application  to  the  King 
of  Samaria,  to  compel  her  neighbor  to  fulfil  the  agreement 
of  sharing  with  her  the  infant's  flesh,  gives  a  more  frightful 
impression  of  the  horrors  of  the  famine  than  any  more  direct 
description  could  have  done ;  since  it  presents  to  us  the 
picture  of  that  hardening  of  the  heart  to  every  kind  of  hor- 
ror, and  that  destruction  of  the  ordinary  state. of  human  sen- 
timent, which  is  the  result  of  long-continued  and  extreme 
misery.  Nor  could  any  detail  of  the  particular  vexations  to 
be  suffered  by  the  exiled  Jews  for  their  disobedience,  con- 
vey so  lively  an  idea  of  them  as  that  description  of  their 
result  contained  in  the  denunciation  of  Moses:  "In  the 
evening  thou  shalt  say,  Would  God  it  were  morning !  and  in 
the  morning  thou  shalt  say.  Would  God  it  were  evening  V 

In  the  poem  of  Rokeby,  a  striking  exemplification  occurs 
of  what  has  been  said  :  Bertram,  in  describing  the  prowess 
he  had  displayed  as  a  buccaneer,  does  not  particularize  any 
of  his  exploits,  but  alludes  to  the  terrible  impression  they 
had  left : 

''Panama's  maids  shall  long  look  pale, 
When  Ptisingham  inspires  the  tale ; 
Chili's  dark  matrons  long  Shall  tame 
The  f Toward  child  with  Bertram's  name." 

The  first  of  dramatists,  who  might  have  been  perhaps  the 
first  of  orators,  has  offered  some  excellent  exemplifications  of 
this  rule,  especially  in  the  speech  of  Antony  over  Cagsar's 
body. 

§4. 

Comparison  is  one  powerful  means  of  exciting  or  height- 
enino'  any  emotion  :  viz.,  by  presenting;  a  parallel 

Comparison.      ,         '^       -^ ,  . '  i         i  j.tl      ^i,    i.    • 

between  the  case  m  hand  and  some  other  that  is 
calculated  to  call  forth  such  emotions ;  taking  care,  of  course, 


CII.  II.,  §  4.]  PERSUASION.  183 

to  represent  the  present  case  as  stronger  than  the  one  it  is 
compared  with,  and  such  as  ought  to  affect  us  more  power- 
fully. 

When  several  successive  steps  of  this  kind  are  employed 
to  raise  the  feelings  gradually  to  the  highest 
pitch,  (which  is  the  principal  employment  of 
what  rhetoricians  call  the  climax,*)  a  far  stronger  effect  is 
])roduced  than  by  the  mere  presentation  of  the  most  striking 
object  at  once.  It  is  observed  by  all  travellers  who  have 
visited  the  Alps,  or  other  stupendous  mountains,  that  they 
form  a  very  inadequate  notion  of  the  vastness  of  the  greater 
ones,  till  they  ascend  some  of  the  less  elevated,  (which  yet 
are  huge  mountains,)  and  thence  view  the  others  still  tower- 
ing above  them.  7Vnd  the  mind,  no  less  than  the  eye,  cannot 
so  well  take  in  and  do  justice  to  any  vast  object  at  a  single 
glance,  as  by  several  successive  approaches  and  repeated  com- 
parisons. Thus  in  the  well-known  climax  of  Cicero  in  the 
oration  against  Verrcs,  shocked  as  the  Romans  were  likely 
to  be  at  the  bare  mention  of  the  crucifixion  of  one  of  their 
citizens,  the  successive  steps  by  which  he  brings  them  to  the 
contemplation  of  such  an  event  were  calculated  to  work  up 
their  feelings  to  a  much  higher  pitch  :  "  It  is  an  outrage  to 
bind  a  Koman  citizen ;  to  scourge  him  is  an  atrocious  crime ; 
to  put  him  to  death  is  almost  parricide ;  but  to  crucify  him — 
what  shall  I  call  it?" 

It  is  observed,  accordingly,  by  Aristotle,  in  speaking  of 
panegyric,  that  the  person  whom  we  would  hold  up  to  admi- 
ration should  always  be  compared,  and  advantageously  com- 
pared, if  possible,  with  those  that  are  already  illustrious;  but 
if  not,  at  least  with  some  person  whom  he  excels  :  to  excel 
being  in  itself,  he  says,  a  ground  of  admiration.  The  same 
rule  will  apply,  as  has  been  said,  to  all  other  feelings  as  well 
as  to  admiration  :  anger  or  pity,  for  instance,  are  more  effect- 
ually excited  if  we  produce  cases  such  as  would  call  forth 
those  passions,  and  which,  though  similar  to  those  before  us, 
are  not  so  strong  \  and  so  with  respect  to  the  rest. 


*  An  analogous  arrangement  of  arguments,  in  order  to  set  forth 
I     the  full  force  of  the  one  we  mean  to  dwell  upon,  would  also  receive 
the  same  appellation  ;  and  in  fact  is  very  often  combined  and  blended 
with  that  which  is  here  spoken  of. 


184  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

When  it  is  said,  however,  that  the  object  which  we  com- 
pare with  another,  introduced  for  the  purpose,  shall  be  one 
which  ought  to  excite  the  feeling  in  question  in  a  higher 
degree  than  that  other,  it- is  not  meant  that  this  must  actually 
be,  already,  the  impression  of  the  hearers :  the  reverse  will 
more  commonly  be  the  case  :  that  the  instances  adduced  will 
be  such  as  actuaUy  affect  their  feelings  more  strongly  than 
that  to  which  we  arc  endeavoring  to  turn  them,  till  the  flame 
spreads,  as  it  were,  from  the  one  to  the  other.  This  will 
especially  hold  good  in  every  case  where  self  is  concerned  : 
e.  g.,  men  feel  naturally  more  indignant  at  a  slight  affront 
offered  to  themselves,  or  those  closely  connected  with  them, 
than  at  the  most  grievous  wrong  done  to  a  stranger  :  if,  there- 
fore, you  would  excite  their  utijiost  indignation  in  such  a 
case,  it  must  be  by  comparing  it  with  a  parallel  case  that  con- 
cerns themselves;  i.  e.,  by  leading  them  to  consider  how 
they  would  feel  were  such  and  such  an  injury  done  to  them- 
selves. And,  on  the  other  hand,  if  you  would  lead  them  to 
a  just  sense  of  their  own  faults,  it  must  be  by  leading  them 
to  contemplate  like  faults  in  others  ]  of  which  the  celebrated 
parable  of  Nathan,  addressed  to  David,  affords  an  admirable 
instance. 

It  often  answers  very  well  to  introduce  in  this  manner  an 
instance  not  only  avowedly  y?c<iVio«s,  but  even  manifestly  im- 
2)0ssil>le,  provided  it  be  but  conceivable.  A  case  may  thus  be 
exhibited  more  striking  and  apposite  than  any  real  or  possible 
one  that  could  be  found.  I  have  inserted  in  the  Appendix 
some  examples  of  this  kind.* 

§5.  _ 

Another  rule  (which  also  is  connected  in  some  degree  with 

style)  relates  to  the  tone  of  feeling  to  be  mani- 
aiftfextenu"°  fcsted  by  the  writer  or  speaker  himself,  in  order 
ating  meth-      ^0  cxcite  the  most  effectually  the  desired  emotions 

in  the  minds  of  the  hearers.  And  this  is  to  be 
accomplished  by  two  opposite  methods  :  the  one,  which  is  the 
more  obvious,  is  to  express  openly  the  feeling  in  question ; 
the  other,  to  seem  laboring  to  siqijyress  it.  In  the  former 
method,  the  most  forcible  remarks  are  introduced ;  the  most 
direct  as  well  as  impassioned  kind  of  description  is  employed; 

*  See  Appendix,  [K.] 


CH.  II.,  §  5.]  PERSUASION.  185 

and  something  of  exaggeration  introduced,  in  order  to  carry 
the  hearers  as  far  as  possible  in  the  same  direction  in  which 
the  orator  seems  to  be  himself  hurried,  and  to  infect  them  to 
a  certain  dec-ree  with  the  emotions  and  sentiments  which  he 
thus  manifests  :  the  other  method,  which  is  often  no  less  suc- 
cessful, is  to  abstain  from  all  remarks,  or  from  all  such  as 
come  up  to  the  expression  of  feeling  which  the  occasion  seems 
to  authorize ;  to  use  a  gentler  mode  of  expression  than  the 
case  might  fairly  warrant;  to  deliver  ^^an  unvarnished  tale," 
leaving  the  hearers  to  make  their  own  comments  5  and  to 
appear  to  stifle  and  studiously  to  keep  within  bounds  such 
emotions  as  may  seem  natural.  This  produces  a  kind  of  re- 
action in  the  hearers'  minds  ;  and  being  struck  with  the  in- 
adequacy of  the  expressions,  and  the  studied  calmness  of  the 
speaker's  manner  of  stating  things,  compared  with  what  he 
may  naturally  be  supposed  to  feel,  they  will  often  rush  into 
the  opposite  extreme,  and  become  the  more  strongly  affected 
by  that  which  is  set  before  them  in  so  simple  and  modest  a 
form.  And  though  this  method  is  in  reality  more  artificial 
than  the  other,  the  artifice  is  the  more  likely  (perhaps  for 
that  very  reason)  to  escape  detection  ;  men  being  less  on  their 
guard  against  a  speaker  who  does  not  seem  so  much  laboring 
to  work  upon  their  feelings,  as  to  repress  or  moderate  his 
own  ]  provided  that  this  calmness  and  coolness  of  manner  be 
not  carried  to  such  an  extreme  as  to  bear  the  appearance  of 
affectation;  which  caution  is  also  to  be  attended  to  in  the 
other  mode  of  procedure  no  less — an  excessive  hyperbolical 
exaggeration  being  likely  to  defeat  its  own  object.  Aristotle 
mentions,  (Rhet.,  Book  IX.,)  though  very  briefly,  these  two 
modes  of  rousing  the  feelings,  the  latter  under  the  name  of 
eironeia,  which  in  his  time  was  commonly  employed  to  signify, 
not  according  to  the  modern  use  of  ''irony,"  saying  "the 
contrary  to  what  is  meant,"  but  what  later  writers  usually  ex- 
press by  litotes,  i.  e.,  saying  less  than  is  meant. 

The  two  methods  may  often  be  both  used  on  the  same  oc- 
casion, beginning  with  the  calm,  and  proceeding  to  the  im- 
passioned afterwards,  when  the  feelinsrs  of  the     ^     ^.    ,. 

1  iJii.i.  x'^-xi.*      Combination 

hearers  are  already  wrought  up  to  a  certain  pitch.*     of  the  two 
Universally,  indeed,  it  is  a  fault  carefully  to  be     "methods. 
■ : : H : • 

*  '^Orav  EXV  V^V  ^^'^f  "fpoaraf,  koX  ttoitjot]  kvdovauioai. — Aristotle, 
Met.,  Book  III.,  chap.  7. 


186  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

avoided,  to  express  feelings  more  vehemently  than  that  the 
audience  can  go  along  with  the  speaker;  who  would,  in  that 
case,  as  Cicero  observes,  seem  like  one  raving  among  the  sane, 
or  intoxicated  in  the  midst  of  the  sober.  And  accordingly, 
except  where  from  extraneous  causes  the  audience  are  already 
in  an  excited  state,  we  must  carry  them  forward  gradually, 
and  allow  time  for  the  fire  to  kindle.  The  blast  which  would 
heighten  a  strong  flame,  would,  if  applied  too  soon,  extinguish 
the  first  faint  spark.  The  speech  of  Antony  over  Caesar's 
corpse,  which  has  been  already  mentioned,  affords  an  admir- 
able example  of  that  combination  of  the  two  methods  which 
has  just  been  spoken  of. 

Generally,  however,  it  will  be  found  that  the  same  orators 
do  not  excel  equally  in  both  modes  of  exciting  the  feelings ; 
and  it  should  be  recommended  to  each  to  employ  principally 
that  in  which  he  succeeds  best;  since  either,  if  judiciously 
managed,  will  generally  prove  effectual  for  its  object.  The 
well-known  tale  of  Inkle  and  Yarico,  which  is  an  instance  of 
the  extenuating  method,  (as  it  may  be  called,)  could  not,  per- 
haps, have  been  rendered  more  affecting,  if  equally  so,  by  the 
most  impassioned  vehemence  and  rhetorical  heightening. 

In  no  point,  perhaps,  more  than  in  that  now  under  con- 
^        ^  sideration,  is  the  importance  of  a  iudicious  ar- 

of  arrange-  rangenient  to  be  perceived.  The  natural  and 
"^®^^*"  suitable  order  of  the  parts  of  a  discourse  (natural 

it  may  be  called,  because  corresponding  with  that  in  which 
the  ideas  suggest  themselves  to  the  mind)  is,  that  the  state- 
ments  and  arguments  should  first  be  clearly  and  calmly  laid 
down  and  developed,  which  are  the  ground  and  justification 
of  such  sentiments  and  emotions  as  the  case  calls  for;  and 
that,  then,  the  impassioned  appeal  (supposing  the  circum- 
stances such  as  admit  of  or  demand  this)  should  be  made,  to 
hearers  well  prepared  by  their  previous  deliberate  convic- 
tion, for  resigning  themselves  to  such  feelings  as  fairly  arise 
out  of  that  conviction.  The  former  of  these  two  parts  may 
be  compared  to  the  back  of  a  sabre ;  the  latter  to  its  edge. 
The  former  should  be  firm  and  weighty;  the  latter  keen. 
The  writer  who  is  deficient  in  strength  of  argument,  seems 
to  want  weight  and  stoutness  of  metal;  his  strokes  make  but 
a  superficial  impression,  or  the  weapon  is  shivered  -to  frag- 
ments in  his  hand.     Ho,  again,  whose  Logic  is  convincing, 


CH.  II.,  §  6.]  PERSUASION.  187 

but  wliose  deficiency  is  in  the  keenness  of  his  application  to 
the  heart  and  to  the  will  of  the  hearer,  seems  to  be  wielding 
a  blunt  though  ponderous  weapon  :  we  wonder  to  find  that 
such  weighty  blows  have  not  cut  deeper.  And  he  who  re- 
verses the  natural  order — who  begins  with  a  vehement  ad- 
dress to  the  feelings,  and  afterwards  proceeds  to  the  argu- 
ments which  alone  justify  such  feelings — reminds  us  of  one 
wielding  an  excellent  sword,  but  striking  with  the  />ar7»:of  it: 
if  he  did  but  turn  it  round,  its  blows  would  take  eff'ect. 

§0. 

When  the  occasion  or  object  in  question  is  not  such  as 
calls  for,  or  as  is  likely  to  excite  in  those  parti- 
cular readers  or  hearers,  the  emotions  required,  fcJii'nfrlJ"  ^^ 
it  is  a  common  rhetorical  artifice  to  turn  their  at- 
tention to  some  object  which  will  call  forth  these  feelings  ) 
and  when  they  are  too  much  excited  to  be  capable  of  judging 
calmly,  it  will  not  be  difficult  to  turn  their  passions,  once 
roused,  in  the  direction  required,  and  to  make  them  view  the 
case  before  them  in  a  very  difi"erent  light.  When  the  metal 
is  heated,  it  may  easily  be  moulded  into  the  desired  form. 
Thus,  vehement  indignation  against  some  crime  may  be  di- 
rected against  a  person  who  has  not  been  proved  guilty  of  it; 
and  vague  declamations  against  corruption,  oppression,  etc.,' 
or  against  the  mischiefs  of  anarchy,  with  highflown  panegy- 
rics on  liberty,  rights  of  man,  etc.,  or  on  social  order,  justice, 
the  constitution,  law,  religion,  etc.,  will  gradually  lead  the 
hearers  to  take  for  granted,  without  proof,  that  the  measure 
proposed  will  lead  to  these  evils  or  these  advantages ;  and  it 
will  in  consequence  become  the  object  of  groundless  abhor- 
rence or  admiration.  For  the  very  utterance  of  such  words 
as  have  a  multitude  of  what  may  be  called  stimulaMng  ideas 
associated  with  them,  will  operate  like  a  charm  on  the  minds, 
especially  of  the  ignorant  and  unthinking,  and  raise  such  a 
tumult  of  feeling  as  will  eff"ectually  blind  their  judgment;  so 
that  a  string  of  vague  abuse  or  panegyric  will  often  have  the 
effect  of  a  train- of  sound  argument.  This  artifice  falls  under 
the  head  of  "  irrelevant  conclusion,^'  or  ignoratio  elenchij 
mentioned  in  the  treatise  on  Fallacies. 


188  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 


CHAPTER   III. 

OF   THE   FAVORABLE  OR  UNFAVORABLE  DISPOSITION  OF  THE 
HEARERS  TOWARDS  THE  SPEAKER  OR  HIS  OPPONENT. 


In  raising  a  favorable  impression  of  the  speaker,  or  an  un- 
j  ,.  ^  ,„  favorable  one  of  his  opponent,  a  peculiar  tact 
commenda-  will  of  course  be  ncccssary ;  especially  in  the 
^'^^"  former,  since  direct  self-commendation  will  usu- 

ally be  disgusting  to  a  greater  degree  even  than  a  direct  per- 
sonal attack  on  another ;  though,  if  the  orator  is  pleading 
his  own  cause,  or  one  in  which  he  is  personally  concerned, 
(as  was  the  case  in  the  speech  of  Demosthenes  concerning 
the  "  Crown,")  a  greater  allowance  will  be  made  for  him  on 
this  point ;  especially  if  he  be  a  very  eminent  person,  and 
one  who  may  safely  appeal  to*  public  actions  performed  by 
him.  Thus  Pericles  is  represented  by  Thucydides  as  claim- 
ing, directly,  when  speaking  in  his  own  vindication,  exactly 
the  qualities  (good  sense,  good  principle,  and  good  will)  which 
Aristotle  lays  down  as  constituting  the  character  which  we 
must  seek  to  appear  in.  But  then  it  is  to  be  observed,  that 
the  historian  represents  him  as  accustomed  to  address  the 
people  with  more  authority  than  others  for  the  most  part  ven- 
tured to  assume.  It  is  by  the  expression  of  wise,  amiable, 
and  generous  sentiments  that  Aristotle  recommends  the  speaker 
to  manifest  his  own  character;*  but  even  this  must  generally 
be  done  in  an  ohlique'[  and  seemingly  incidental  manner,  lest 
the  hearers  be  disgusted  with  a  pompous  and  studied  display 

*  When  (as  of  coui'se  will  often  happen)  the  hearers  are  thus  in- 
duced, on  insufficient  grounds,  to  give  the  speaker  full  credit  for 
moral  excellence,  from  his  merely  uttei'ing  the  language  of  it,  the 
fallacy  which  in  this  case  misleads  them  may  be  regarded  as  that  of 
"undistributed  middle  :"  "A  good  man  would  speak  so  and  so  :  the 
speaker  does  this ;  tlierefore  he  must  be  a  good  man." 

f  E.  g.  :  "It  would  be  needless  to  impress  upon  you  the  maxim," 
etc.  "You  cannot  be  ignorant,"  etc.,  etc.  "I  am  not  advancing 
any  high  pretensions  in  expressing  the  sentiments  which  such  an  oc- 
casion must  call  forth  in  every  honest  heart,"  etc. 


CH.  III.,  §  1.]  PERSUASION.  189 

of  fine  sentiments ;  and  care  must  also  be  taken  not  to  affront 
them  by  seeming  to  inculcate,  as  something  likely  to  be  new 
to  them,  maxims  which  they  regard  as  almost  truisms.  Of 
course  the  application  of  this  last  caution  must  vary  accord- 
ing to  the  character  of  the  persons  addressed :  that  might 
excite  admiration  and  latitude  in  one  audience  which  an- 
other  would  receive  with  indignation  and  ridicule.  Most 
men,  however,  are  disposed  rather  to  overrate  than  to  exten- 
uate their  own  moral  judgment,  or  at  least  to  be  jealous  of 
any  one's  appearing  to  underrate  it. 

Universally  indeed,  in  the  arguments  used,  as  well  as  in 
the  appeals  made  to  the  feelings,  a  consideration 
must  be  had  of  the  hearers,  whether  they  are  reiative"*^^ 
learned  or  ignorant ;  of  this  or  that  profession, 
nation,  character,  etc. ;  and  the  address  must  be  adapted  to 
each;  so  that  there  can  be  no  excellence  of  writing  or  speak- 
ing, in  the  abstract ;  nor  can  we  any  more  pronounce  on  the 
eloquence  of  any  composition,  than  upon  the  wholesomeness 
of  a  medicine,  without  knowing  for  whom  it  is  intended.* 
The  less  enlightened  the  hearers,  the  harder,  of  course,  it  is 
to  make  them  comprehejid  a  long  and  complex  train  of  rea- 
soning; so  that  sometimes  the  arguments,  in  themselves  the 
most  cogent,  cannot  be  employed  at  all  with  effect ;  and  the 
rest  will  need  an  expansion  and  copious  illustration  which 
would  be  needless,  and  therefore  tiresome,  (as  has  been  above 
remarked,)  before  a  different  kind  of  audience.  On  the  other 
hand,  their  feelings  may  be  excited  by  much  bolder  and 
coarser  expedients,  such  as  those  are  the  most  ready  to  em- 
ploy, and  the  most  likely  to  succeed  in,  who  are  themselves 

*  Aristotle  has  given,  in  his  Rhetoric,  besides  a  very  curious  and 
valuable  analysis  of  the  passions,  a  description  of  the  prevailing 
characters  of  men  of  different  ages  and  situations  in  life — in  refer- 
ence to  the  different  modes  in  •which  they  are  to  be  addressetf  With 
a  similar  view,  I  have  appended  to  the  present  Part  a  Lecture  de- 
livered a  few  years  ago,  on  the  moral  and  intellectual  influences  of 
the  several  professions. 

It  was  composed  without  any  reference  to  the  present  subject ;  and 
it  omits  several  points  which  might,  not  unsuitably,  have  been  intro- 
duced. But  it  will  be  easy  for  the  reader  to  make  the  requisite  ap- 
plication of  the  remarks  it  contains,  and  to  fill  up  for  himself  the 
outline  sketched  out  in  it. 


190  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [PART  II. 

only  a  little  removed  above  the  vulgar ;  as  may  be  seen  in 
the  effects  produced  by  fanatical  preachers. 

But  there  are  none  whose  feelings  do  not  occasionally  need 

and  admit  of  excitement  by  the  powers  of  elo- 
No  class  inca-  quence ;  only  there  is  a  more  exquisite  ^kill  re- 
mflueneed^"°  quired  in  thus  affecting  the  educated  classes  than 
through  their   ^j^g  populace.     ^'  The  less  improved  in  knowledge 

and  discernment  the  hearers  are,  the  easier  it  is 
for  the  speaker  to  work  upon  their  passions,  and,  by  working 
on  their  passions,  to  obtain  his  end.  This,  it  must  be  owned, 
appears  on  the  other  hand  to  give  a  considerable  advantage 
to  the  preacher;  as  in  no  congregation  can  the  bulk  of  the 
people  be  regarded  as  on  a  footing,  in  point  of  improvement, 
with  either  house  of  parliament,  or  with  the  judges  in  a 
court  of  judicature.  It  is  certain,  thao  the  more  gross  the 
hearers  are,  the  more  avowedly  may  you  address  yourself  to 
their  passions,  and  the  less  occasion  there  is  for  argument; 
whereas,  the  more  intelligent  they  are,  the  more  covertly 
must  you  operate  on  their  passions,  and  the  more  attentive 
must  you  be  in  regard  to  the  justness,  or  at  least  the  specious- 
ness,  of  your  reasoning.  Hence  ^ome  have  strangely  con- 
cluded, that  the  only  scope  for  eloquence  is  in  haranguing 
the  multitude  ;  that  in  gaining  over  to  your  purpose  men  of 
knowledge  and  breeding,  the  exertion  of  oratorical  talents 
hath  no  influence.  This  is  precisely  as  if  one  should  argue, 
because  a  mob  is  much  more  easily  subdued  than  regular 
troops,  there  is  no  occasion  for  the  art  of  war,  nor  is  there  a 
proper  field  for  the  exertion  of  military  skill,  unless  when 
you  are  quelling  an  undisciplined  rabble.  Everybody  sees 
in  this  case,  not  only  how  absurd  such  a  way  of  arguing 
would  be,  but  that  the  very  reverse  ought  to  be  the  conclu- 
sion. The  reason  why  people  do  not  so  quickly  perceive  the 
absuri^ity  in  the  other  case  is,  that  they  affix  no  distinct 
meaning  to  the  word  eloquence,  often  denoting  no  more  by 
that  term  than  simply  the  power  of  moving  the  passions. 
But  even  in  this  improper  acceptation,  their  notion  is  far 
from  being  just;  for  wherever  there  are  men,  learned  or 
ignorant,  civilized  or  barbarous,  there  are  passions ;  and  the 
greater  the  difficulty  is  in  affecting  these,  the  more  art  is 
requisite.''* 

^  Campbell's  <' Rhetoric,"  B.  I.,  chap,  x.,  sec.  2,  pp.  224,  225. 


CH.  III.,  §  1.]  TERSUASION.  191 

It  may  be  added  to  what  Dr.  Campbell  has  here  remarked, 
that  the  title  of  eloquent  may  have  come  to  be  often  limited 
to  such  compositions  as  he  is  speaking  of,  from  the  circum- 
stance that  their  eloquence  is  (to  readers  of  cultivated  mind) 
more  conspicuous.  That  which  affects  our  own  feelings  is 
not,  by  us,  at  the  time  at  least,  perceived  to  he  eloquence. 
(See  note  to  the  next  section.) 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is,  as  has  been  said,  in  the  same 
degree  more  difficult  to  bring  the  uneducated  to  a  compre- 
hension of  the  arguments  employed;  and  this  not  only  from 
their  reasoning  powers  having  less  general  cultivation,  but 
also,  in  many  instances,  from  their  ignorance  of  the  subject — 
their  needing  to  be  informed  of  the  facts,  and  to  have  the 
principles  explained  to  them,  on  which  the  argument  pro- 
ceeds. And  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  generality  of  ser- 
mons seem  to  presuppose  a  degree  of  religious  knowledge  in 
the  hearers  greater  than  many  of  them  would  be  found  on 
examination  to  possess.  When  this  is  the  case,  the  most 
angelic  eloquence  must  be  unavailing  to  any  practical  pur- 
pose. 

In  no  point  more  than  in  that  now  under  consideration, 
viz.,  the  conciliation  (to  adopt  the  term   of  the    ,  .        ,, 
Latin  writers)  of  the  hearers,  is  it  requisite  to  impression  of 
consider  who  and  what  the  hearers  are  -,  for  when   JJi-^vli-iteT^to 
it  is  said  that  good  sense,  good  principle,  and   bo  produced 
good  will,  constitute    the    character  which    the   ways  accord- 
speaker  ouLi'ht  to  establish  of  himself,  it  is  to  be   "?s  to  the 

i^  '^  P    1  .  1  character  of 

remembered  that  every  one  or  these  is  to  be  con-  those  ad- 
sidered  in  reference  to  the  opinions  and  habits  of  ^^■^^^^^• 
the  audience.  To  think  very  diflferently  from  his  hearers, 
may  often  be  a  sign  of  the  orator's  wisdom  and  worth  ]  but 
they  are  not  likely  to  consider  it  so.  A  witty  satirist*  has 
observed,  that  ''  it  is  a  short  way  to  obtain  the  reputation  of 
a  wise  and  reasonable  man,  whenever  any  one  tells  you  his 
opinion,  to  agree  with  him,"  Without  going  the  full  length 
of  completely  acting  on  this  maxim,  it  is  quite  necessary  to 
remember,  that  in  proportion  as  the  speaker  manifests  his 
dissent  from  the  opinions  and  principles  of  his  audience,  so 
far  he  runs  the  risk  at  least  of  impairing  their  estimation  of 

^-  Swift. 


192  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   H. 

his  judgment.  But  this  it  is  often  necessary  to  do  when  any 
serious  object  is  proposed;  because  it  will  commonly  happen 
that  the  very  end  aimed  at  shall  be  one  which  implies  a 
change  of  sentiments,  or  even  of  principles  and  characterj  in 
the  hearers. 

This  must  bo  very  much  the  case  with  any  preacher  of  the 
gospel ;  but  must  have  been  much  more  so  with  its  first  pro- 
mulgators. "  Christ  crucified"  was  "  to  the  Jews  a  stumbling- 
block,  and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness.''  The  total  change 
required  in  all  the  notions,  habits,  and  systems  of  conduct 
in  the  first  converts,  constituted  an  obstacle  to  the  reception 
of  the  new  religion,  which  no  other  that  has  prevailed  ever 
had  to  contend  with.  The  striking  contrast  which  Moham- 
medanism presents,  in  this  respect,  to  Christianity,  consti- 
tutes the  rapid  diffusion  of  the  two  by  no  means  parallel  cases. 

Those  indeed  who  aim  only  at  popularity,  are  right  in  con- 
forming their  sentiments  to  those  of  the  hearers,  rather  than 
the  contrary ;  but  it  is  plain  that  though  in  this  way  they 
obtain  the  greatest  reputation  for  eloquence,  they  deserve  it 
the  less ;  it  being  much  easier,  according  to  the  tale  related 
of  Mohammed,  to  go  to  the  mountain,  than  to  bring  the 
mountain  to  us.  "  Little  force  is  necessary  to  push  down 
heavy  bodies  placed  on  the  verge  of  a  declivity ;  but  much 
force  is  requisite  to  stop  them  in  their  progress,  and  push 
them  up.  If  a  man  should  say,  that  because  the  first  is  more 
frequently  effected  than  the  last,  it  is  the  best  trial  of  strength, 
and  the  only  suitable  use  to  which  it  can  be  applied,  we  should 
at  least  not  think  him  remarkable  for  distinctness  in  his 
ideas.  Popularity  alone,  therefore,  is  no  test  at  all  of  the 
eloquence  of  the  speaker,  no  more  than  velocity  alone  would 
be,  of  the  force  of  the  external  impulse  originally  given  to 
the  body  moving.  As  in  this  the  direction  of  the  body,  and 
other  circumstances,  must  be  taken  into  the  account ;  so,  in 
that,  you  must  consider  the  tendency  of  the  teaching,  whe- 
ther it  favors  or  opposes  the  vices  of  the  hearers.  To  head 
a  sect,  to  infuse  party  spirit,  to  make  men  arrogant,  unchari- 
table, and  malevolent,  is  the  easiest  task  imaginable,  and  to 
which  almost  any  blockhead  is  fully  equal.  But  to  produce 
the  contrary  effect — to  subdue  the  spirit  of  faction,  (in  re- 
ligious matters,)  and  that  monster,  spiritual  pride,  with  which 
it  is  invariably  accompanied ;  to  inspire  equity,  moderation, 


CH.  III.,  §  1.]  PERSUASION.  193 

and  charity  into  men's  sentiments  and  conduct  with  regard 
to  others — is  the  genuine  test  of  eloquence."*  There  is  but 
little  eloquence  in  convincing  men  that  they  are  in  the  right, 
or  inducTOg  them  to  approve  a  character  which  coincides  with 
their  own. 

The  Christian  preacher,  therefore,  is  in  this  respect  placed 
in  a  difficult  dilemma;  since  he  may  be  sure  that 
the  less  he  complies  with  the  depraved  judgments   ^  preacher  °^ 
of  man's  corrupt  nature,  the  less  acceptable  is  he 
likely  to  be  to  that  depraved  judgment. 

But  he  who  would  claim  the  highest  rank  as  an  orator,  (to 
omit  all  nobler  considerations,)  must  be  the  one  who  is  the 
most  successful,  not  in  gaining  popular  applause,  but  in  car- 
ryincj  his  2^omt,  whatever  it  be;  especially  if  there  are.  strong 
prejudices,  interests,  and  feelings  opposed  to  him.  The 
preacher,  however,  who  is  intent  on  this  object,  should  use 
all  such  precautions  as  are  not  consistent  with  it,  to  avoid 
raising  unfavorable  impressions  in  his  hearers.  Much  will 
depend  on  a  gentle  and  conciliatory  manner;  nor  is  it  neces- 
sary that  he  should,  at  once,  in  an  abrupt  and  offensive  form, 
set  forth  all  the  differences  of  sentiment  between  himself  and 
his  congregation,  instead  of  winning  them  over  by  degrees ; 
and  in  whatever  point,  and  to  whatever  extent,  he  may  sup- 
pose them  to  agree  with  him,  it  is  allowable,  and  for  that 
reason  advisable,  to  dwell  on  that  agreement ;  as  the  apostles 
began  every  address  to  the  Jews  by  an  appeal  to  the  prophets, 
whose  authority  they  admitted ;  and  as  Paul  opens  his  dis- 
course to  the  Athenians  (though  unfortunately  the  words  of 
our  translation  are  likely  to  convey  an  opposite  ideaf)  by  a 
commendation  of  their  respect  for  religion.  And  above  all,, 
where  censure  is  called  for,  the  speaker  should  avoid,  not 
merely  on  Christian,  but  also  on  rhetorical  principles,  all  ap- 
pearance of  exultation  in  his  own  superiority,  of  contempt,  or 
of  uncharitable  triumph  in  the  detection  of  faults  :  "in  meek- 
ness, instriLcting  them  that  oppose  themselves." 

Of  all  hostile  feelings,  envy  is  perhaps  the  hardest  to  bo 


*  Campbell's  "Rhetoric,"  B.  I.,  chap,  x.,  sec.  5,  p.  239. 

f  AsLGti^aijiwveaTtpovg,  not  "too  superstitious,"  but  (as  almost  all 
commentators  are  now  agreed)  "very  much  disposed  to  the  worship 
of  Divine  Beings." 

7 


194  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

subdued ;  because  hardly  any  one  owns  it,  even  to  himself; 
but  looks  out  for  one  pretext  after  another  to  justify  the  hos- 
tility which  in  reality  springs  from  envy. 

One  considerable  difficulty  there  is,  which  is  p^uliar  to 
him  who  has  been  accustomed  to  an  audience  of 
erenceforthe  which  he  is  the  recognized  tnstructoi^ ,  y/vhcn  he 
wiu^n  difficult   comes  to  address  those  who  are,  or  who  account 
to  be  as-  themselvcs,  his  equals  or  superiors.     Such  is  the 

sumed.  ^^^^  ^-^j^  ^  professor,  college  tutor,  or  clergyman, 

when  he  has  to  speak  in  parliament,  or  before  a  judge.  He 
will  have  been  accustomed,  without  any  offensive  arrogance 
or  conceit,  to  speak  in  a  tone'  of  superiority,  which,  though 
perfectly  suitable  in  the  one  case,  would  in  the  other  be  in- 
tolerable. And  he  will  find  himself  called  on  to  assume,  with 
much  difficulty,  a  tone  of  such  deference  and  respect  for  his 
audience  as  perhaps  he  does  not  feel,  but  which  they  will 
have  been  accustomed  to,  and  prepared  to  expect;  though 
they  may  be  not  at  all  intrinsically  superior  to  the  pupils  or 
the  congregation  he  has  been  in  the  habit  of  instructing. 

§2. 

Of  intellectual  qualifications,  there  is  one  which,  it  is  evi- 
^  ^        dent,  should  not  only  not  be  blazoned  forth,  but 

reputation  for  should  in  a  great  measure  be  concealed,  or  kept 
eloquence.  ^^^  ^^  sight;  viz.,  rhetorical  skill;  since  whatever 
is  attributed  to  the  eloquence  of  the  speaker,  is  so  much  de- 
ducted from  the  strentrth  of  his  cause.  Hence,  Pericles  is 
represented  by  Thucydides  as  artfully  claiming,  in  his  vindi- 
cation of  himself,  the  power  of  exjylaining  the  measures  he 
proposes,  not  eloquence  in  persuading  their  adoption.*  And 
accordingly  a  skilful  orator  seldom  fails  to  notice  and  extol 
the  eloquence  of  his  opponent,  and  to  warn  the  hearers  against 
being  misled  by  it. 

There  is  indeed  a  class  of  persons,  and  no  inconsiderable 
one,  who  have  a  suspicion  and  dread  of  all  intellectual  supe- 
riority. Such,  especially,  are  men  who  possess,  and  are  proud 
of,  the  advantages  of  birth,  rank,  high  connections,  and  wealth, 
while  they  are  deficient  in  others,  and  have  a  half-conscious- 

*  See  the  Motto,  which  is  from  his  speech. 


CH.  III.,  §  2.]  PERSUASION.  195 

ness  of  that  deficiency ;  who,  being  partly  conscious  of  their 
own  ignorance,  dislike,  dread,  and  endeavor  to  despise,  ex- 
tensive knowledge  ;  who,  being  half  aware  of  their  own  dul- 
ness,  (which  they  call  ^'common  sense"  and  ^' sound  discre- 
tion,") eagerly  advocate  that  maxim  which,  it  has  been  well 
remarked,  has  been  always  a  favorite  with  dunces,  that  a  man 
of  genius  is  unfit  for  business ;  and  who  accordingly  regard 
with  a  curious  mixture  of  disdain,  jealousy,  and  alarm,  any 
of  those 'Superior  intellectual  qualifications  which  seem  to 
threaten  rivalry  to  the  kind  of  advantages  possessed  by  them- 
selves. 

But  it  is  only  a  particular  clasS  of  men  that  are  subject  to 
this  kind  of  dread.  Eloquence,  on  the  other  hand,  is,  in  some 
degree,  dreaded  by  all;  and  the  reputation  for  it,  conse- 
quently, will  always  be,  in  some  degree,  a  disadvantage. 

It  is  a  peculiarity  therefore  in  the  rhetorical  art,  that  in  it, 
more  than  in  any  other,  vanity  has  a  direct  and  immediate 
tendency  to  interfere  with  the  proposed  object.  Excessive 
vanity  may  indeed,  in  various  ways,  prove  an  impediment  to 
success  in  other  pursuits ;  but  in  the  endeavor  to  persuade^ 
all  wish  to  appear  excellent  in  that  art  operates  as  a  hin- 
drance. A  poet,  a  statesman,  or  a  general,  etc.,  though  ex- 
treme covetousness  of  applause  may  mislead  them,  will,  how- 
ever, attain  their  respective  ends  certainly  not  the  less  for 
being  admired  as  excellent  in  poetry,  politics,  or  war;  but 
the  orator  attains  his  end  the  better  the  less  he  is  regarded 
as  an  orator.  If  he  can  make  the  hearers  believe  that  he  is 
not  only  a  stranger  to  all  unfair  artifice,  but  even  destitute 
of  all  persuasive  skill  whatever,  he  will  persuade  them  the 
more  efi'ectually,*  and  if  there  ever  could  be  an  absolutely 
perfect  orator,  no  one  would  (at  the  time  at  least)  discover 
that  he  was  so.  j" 


*  "I  am  no  orator,  as  Brutus  is,"  etc.— Shaksp.  .Julius  Ctesar. 

■f  The  following  passage  from  a  review  of  "  The  Heart  of  Mid- 
Lothian"  coincides  precisely  with  what  has  been  here  remarked: 
"We  cannot  bestow  the  same  unqualified  praise  on  another  celebrated 
scene,  Jeannie's  interview  with  Queen  Caroline.  Jeannie's  pleading 
appears  to  us  much  too  rhetorical  for  the  person  and  for  tlic  occasion; 
and  the  queen's  answer,  supposing  her  to  have  been  overpowered  by 
Jeannie's  entreaties,  'This  is  eloquence,'  is  still  worse.  Had  it  been 
eloquence,  it  must  necessarily  have  been  unperceived  by  the  queen. 


196  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

It  is  true,  a  general  reputation  for  eloquence  will  often  gain 
a  man  great  influence ;  especially  in  a  free  country,  governed 
in  great  measure  by  means  of  party,  having  open  debates,  and 
appeals  made  to  public  opinion  through  the  press.  In  such  a 
country — next  to  the  reputation  of  great  political  wisdom, 
spotless  integrity,  and  zealous  public  spirit — there  is  nothing 
more  influential  than  the  reputation  of  being  a  powerful 
speaker.  He  who  is  sure  to  detect  and  skilfully  expose  any 
error  of  his  opponents,  and  who  may  be  relied  on,  if  not  to 
propose  always  good  measures,  at  least  never  to  propose  any 
of  which  he  cannot  give  a  plausible  vindication,  and  always 
to  furnish,  for  those  already  prepared  to  side  with  him,  some 
specious  reasons  to  justify  their  vote — such  a  man  will  be  re- 
garded as  a  powerful  supporter  and  a  formidable  adversary. 
But  this  is  not  at  variance  with  what  has  been  above  said. 
For  though  a  reputation  for  eloquence,  generally,  is  thus  in- 
fluential, still  in  each  individual  case  that  arises,  the  more  is 
thought  of  the  eloquence  of  the  speaker,  the  less  of  the 
strength  of  his  cause ;  and  consequently  the  less  will  he  be, 
really,  persuasive.  And  it  may  be  added  that,  in  proportion 
as  he  has  the- skill  to  transfer  the  admiration  from  his  elo- 
quence to  his  supposed  political  wisdom,  the  more  will  his 
influence  be  increased.  And  it  is  nearly  the  same  with  a 
pleader.  A  reputation,  generally,  for  eloquence  will  gain  him 
clients  ',  but,  in  each  particular  pleading,  will  tend  to  produce 
distrust,  in  proportion  as  the  force  of  what  he  urges  is  attri- 
buted rather  to  his  ingenuity  than  to  the  justice  of  the  cause. 
And  again,  as  far  as  he  can  succeed  in  transferring  the  ad- 
miration from  his  eloquence  to  his  supposed  soundness  in  law, 
his  influence  will  in  the  same  degree  be  increased.     And 

If  there  is  any  art  of  which  celare  artem  is  the  basis,  it  is  this.  The 
instant  it  peeps  out,  it  defeats  its' own  object,  by  diverting  our  atten- 
tion from  the  subject  to  the  speaker,  and  that,  with  a  suspicion  of  his 
sophistry  equal  to  our  admiration  of  his  ingenuity.  A  man  who,  in 
answer  to  an  earnest  address  to  the  feelings  of  his  hearer,  is  told, 
'You  have  spoken  eloquently,'  feels  that  he  has  failed.  Effie,  when 
she  entreats  Sharpitlaw  to  allow  her  to  see  her  sister,  is  eloquent ; 
and  his  answer  accordingly  betrays  perfect  unconsciousness  that  she 
has  been  so:  'You  shall  see  your  sister,'  he  began,  'if  you  tell  me ;' 
then  interrupting  himself,  he  added  in  a  more  hurried  tone,  'No,  you 
shall  see  your  sister,  whether  you  tell  me  or  no.'  " — Quarterly  Eeview, 
No.  li.,  p.  118. 


CII.  III.,  §  2.]  PERSUASION.  197 

universally,  if,  along  with  a  character  for  eloquence,  a  man 
acquires  (as  he  often  will)  the  character  of  being  fond  of  dis- 
playing \t,  by  speaking  on  all  occasions,  and  on  all  subjects, 
well  or  ill  understood,  and  of  sometimes  choosing  the  wrong- 
side  as  affording  more  scope  for  his  ingenuity,  this  will  greatly 
lessen  his  influence. 

The  above  considerations  may  serve  to  account  for  the  fact 
whit^h  Cicero  remarks  upon  {De  Oratore,  book  i.)  as  so  inex- 
plicable; viz.,  the  small  number  of  persons  who,  down  to  his 
time,  had  obtained  high  reputation  as  orators,  compared  with 
those  who  had  obtained  eminence  in  other  pursuits.  Few 
men  are  destitute  of  the  desire  of  admiration,  and  most  are 
especially  ambitious  of  it  in  the  pursuit  to  which  they  have 
chiefly  devoted  themselves;  the  orator  therefore  is  continually 
tempted  to  sacrifice  the  substance  to  the  shadow,  by  aiming 
rather  at  the  admiration  of  the  hearers  than  their  conviction ; 
and  thus  to  fail  of  that  excellence  in  his  art  which  he  might 
otherwise  be  well  qualified  to  attain,  through  the  desire  of  a 
reputation  for  it.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  some  may  have 
been  really  persuasive  speakers,  who  yet  may  not  have  ranked 
high  in  men's  opinion,  and  may  not  have  been  known  to 
possess  that  art  of  which  they  gave  proof  by  their  skilful  con- 
cealment of  it.  There  is  no  point,  in  short,  in  which  report 
is  so  little  to  be  trusted. 

If  I  were  asked  to  digress  a  little  from  my  subject,  and  to 
say  what  I  should  recommend  in  point  of  morality  prudent  and 
and  of  prudence  to  the  speaker  or  writer,  and  to  conscientious 
those  whom  he  addresses,  with  respect  to  the  pre-  ^ 
cept  just  given,  I  should,  in  reply,  counsel  him  who  wishes 
to  produce  a  permanent  eff'ect,  (for  I  am  not  now  adverting 
to  the  case  of  a  barrister,)  to  keep  on  the  side  of  what  he  be- 
lieves to  be  truth ;  and,  avoiding  all  sophistry,  to  aim  only  at 
setting  forth  that  truth  as  strongly  as  possible,  (combating, 
of  course,  any  unjust  personal  prejudice  against  himself,) 
without  any  endeavor  to  gain  applause  for  his  own  abilities. 
If  he  is  himself  thoroughly  convinced,  and  strongly  im- 
pressed, and  can  keep  clear  of  the  seductions  of  vanity,  ho 
will  be  more  likely  in  this  way  to  gain  due  credit  for  the 
strength  of  his  cause,  than  by  yielding  to  a  feverish  anxiety 
about  the  opinion  that  o-thers  may  form  of  him.  And  as  I 
should  of  course  advise  the  reader  or  hearer  to  endeavor,  in 


198  ELEMENTS   OP  RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

each  case,  to  form  liis  judgment  according  to  the  real  and 
valid  arguments  urged,  and  to  regulate  his  feelings  and  senti- 
ments according  to  what  the  case  justly  calls  for,  so,  with  a 
view  to  this  end,  I  would  suggest  these  two  cautions :  first, 
to  keep  in  mind  that  there  is  danger  of  overrating  as  well  as 
of  underrating  the  eloquence  of  what  is  said ',  and  that  to 
attribute  to  the  skill  of  the  advocate  what  really  belongs  to 
the  strength  of  his  cause,  is  just  as  likely  to  lead  to  error  as 
the  opposite  mistake  ;  and,  secondly,  to  remember  that  when 
the  feelings  are  strongly  excited,  they  are  not  necessarily 
over-excited :  it  may  be  that  they  are  only  brought  into  the 
state  which  the  occasion  fully  justifies;  or  even  that  they 
still  fall  short  of  this.* 


Of  the  three  points  which  Aristotle  directs  the  orator  to 
A  character  claim  credit  for,  it  might  seem  at  first  sight  that 
for  good  will  one,  viz.,  ''good  will,'^  is  unnecessary  to  be  men- 
tegrity  requi"-  tioned  ;  since  ability  and  integrity  would  appear 
^''^^-  to  comprehend,  in  most  cases  at  least,  all  that  is 

needed.  A  virtuous  man,  it  may  be  said,  must  wish  well  to 
his  countrymen,  or  to  any  persons  whatever  whom  he  may  be 
addressing.  But  on  a  more  attentive  consideration,  it  will  be 
manifest  that  Aristotle  had  good  reason  for  mentioning  this 
head.  If  the  speaker  were  believed  to  wish  well  to  his  coun- 
try.  and  to  every  individual  of  it,  yet  if  he  were  suspected  of 
being  unfriendly  to  the  political  or  other  jmrty  to  which  his 
hearers  belonged,  they  would  listen  to  him  with  prejudice. 
The  abilities  and  the  conscientiousness  of  Phocion  seem  not 
to  have  been  doubted  by  any ;  but  these  were  so  far  from 
gaining  him  a  favorable  hearing  among  the  democratical  pa^rty 
at  Athens,  (who  knew  him  to  be  no  friend  to  democracy,) 
that  they  probably  distrusted  him  the  more ;  as  one  whose 
public  spirit  would  induce  him,  and  whose  talents  might  en- 
able him,  to  subvert  the  existing  constitution. 

One  of  the  most  powerful  engines,  ^accordingly,  of  the  ora- 

p  ...       tor,  is  this  kind  of  appeal  to  party  spirit.    Party 

spirit  may,  indeed,  be  considered  in  another  point 

of  view,  as  one  of  the  passions  which  may  be  directly  ap- 

*  See  Part  II.,  chap,  i.,  ?  2. 


CII.  III.,  §  3.]  .     PERSUASION.  199 

pealed  to,  when  it  can  be  brought  to  operate  in  the  direction 
required ;  i.  e.,  when  the  conduct  the  writer  or  speaker  is 
recommending  appears  likely  to  gratify  party  spirit ;  but  it  is 
the  indirect  appeal  to  it  which  is  now  under  consideration ; 
viz.,  the  favor,  credit,  and  weight  which  the  speaker  will  de- 
rive from  appearing  to  be  of  the  same  party  with  the  hearers, 
or  at  least  not  opposed  to  it.  And  this  is  a  sort  of  credit 
which  he  may  claim  more  openly  and  avowedly  than  any 
other;  and  he  may  likewise  throw  discredit  on  his  opponent 
in  a  less  offensive  but  not  less  effectual  manner.  A  man  can- 
not say  in,  direct  terms,  "  I  am  a  wise  and  worthy  man,  and 
my  adversary  the  reverse;"  but  he  is  allowed  to  say,  "I 
adhere  to  the  principles  of  Mr.  Pitt,  or  of  Mr.  Fox ;."  "  I  am 
a  friend  to  Presbyterianism,  or  to  Episcopacy,"  (as  the  case 
may  be,)  and  "my  opponent  the  reverse;"  which  is  not  re- 
garded as  an  oficnce  against  modesty,  and  yet  amounts  vir- 
tually to  as  strong  a  self-commendation,  and  as  decided  vitu- 
peration, in  the  eyes  of  those  imbued  with  party  spirit,  as  if 
every  kind  of  merit  and  of  demerit  had  been  enumerated ; 
for  to  zealous  party  men,  zeal  for  their  party  will  very  often 
either  imply,  or  stand  as  a  substitute  for,  every  other  kind  of 
worth.* 

Hard,  indeed,  therefore  is  the  task  of  him  whose  object  is 
to  counteract  party  spirit,  and  to  soften  the  violence  of  those 
prejudices  which  spring  from  it.f     His  only  resource  must 


*  One  of  the  strangest  phenomena  of  the  present  day  is  the  kind 
of  deference  shown  by  men  of  each  party  for  the  authority  of  the 
newspapers  of  their  respective  parties ;  both  in  respect  of  facts  and 
of  opinions. 

A  stranger  from  a  distant  country  would  probably  suppose  that  the 
writer  to  whom  he  saw  thousands  habitually  surrendering  their  judg- 
ment, must  be  a  person  well  known  to  them,  and  highly  respected  by 
them.  He  would  be  much  surprised  to  find  that  most  of  them  did 
not  even  know  who  he  was.  But  great  indeed  would  be  his  astonisli- 
ment  at  finding  that  many  of  these  very  persons,  if  they  chanced  to 
meet  the  editor  in  society,  and  were  inclined  from  what  they  saw  of 
him  to  estimate  him  highly,  would,  as  soon  as  they  learned  his  occu- 
pation, deem  him,  however  respectable  in  character,  hardly  fit  com- 
pany for  themselves.  He  would  be,  as  a  man,  lowered  in  their  esti- 
mation, by  the  very  circumstance  which  gives  him,  as  a  writer,  a 
complete  control  over  their  judgment. 

f  Of  all  the  prepossessions  in  the  minds  of  the  hearers,  which  tend 
to  impede  or  counteract  the  design  of  the  speaker,  party  spirit,  where 


200  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

be  to  take  care  that  lie  give  no  ground  for  being  supposed 
imbued  with  the  violent  and  unjust  prejudices  of  the  opposite 
party ;  that  he  give  his  audience  credit  (since  it  rarely  hap- 
pens but  that  each  party  has  some  tenets  that  are  reasonable) 
for  whatever  there  may  be  that  deserves  praise ;  that  he  pro- 
ceed gradually  and  cautiously  in  removing  the  errors  with 
which  they  are  infected ;  and,  above  all,  that  he  studiously 
disclaim  and  avoid  the  appearance  of  any  thing  like  a  feel- 
ing of  'personal  hostility  or  personal  contempt. 

If  the  orator's  character  can  be  sufficiently  established  in 
.  ,  ,  respect  of  ability,  and  also  of  a:ood-will  towards 
for  integrity  the  hearers,  it  might  at  first  sight  appear  as  if 
requisite.  ,  |]-^jg  would  bc  Sufficient ;  since  the  former  of  these 
would  imply  the  power,  and  the  latter  the  inclination,  to  give 
the  best  advice,  whatever  might  be  his  moral  character.  But 
Aristotle  (in  his  "  Politics")  justly  remarks  that  this  last  is 
also  requisite  to  be  insisted  on,  in  order  to  produce  entire 
confidence  ]  for,  says  he,  though-  a  man  cannot  be  suspected 
of  wanting  good  will  towards  himself,  yet  many  very  able 
men  act  most  absurdly,  even  in  their  own  affiiirs,  for  want  of 
moral  virtue — being  either  blinded  or  overcome  by  their  pas- 
sions, so  as  to  sacrifice  their  own  most  important  interests  to 
their  present  gratification — and  much  more,  therefore,  may 
they  be  expected  to  be  thus  seduced  by  personal  temptations 
in  the  advice  they  give  to  others.  Pericles,  accordingly,  in 
the  speech  which  has  been  already  referred  to,  is  represented 
by  Thucydides  as  insisting  not  only  on  his  political  ability 
and  his  patriotism,  but  also  on  his  unimpeached  integrity,  as 
a  qualification  absolutely  necessary  to  entitle  him  to  their  con- 
fidence ;  '^  for  the  man,'^  says  he,  ''  who  possesses  every  other 
requisite,  but  is  overcome  by  the  temptation  of  interest,  will  be 
ready  to  sell  every  thing  for  the  gratification  of  his  avarice.^' 

It  may  be  added  that  a  pleader  often  finds  it  advisable  to 
_    , ,    .  „       aim  at  establishins: — in  reference  to  the  feelinofs 

Real  belief  of         j.     .    •       i    .  ^i      i  •         i/»         i     ,  ^ 

a  pleader  as      entertained  towards  himseli — what  may   be  re- 
cause  °^^        garded  as  a  distinct  point  from  any  of  the  above ; 
namely,  the  sincerity  of  his  own  conviction.     In 

it  happens  to  prevail,  is  the  most  pernicious ;  being  at  once  the  most 

inflexible,  and  the  most  unjust Violent  party  men  not 

only  lose  all  sympathy  with  those  of  the  opposite  side,  but  even  con- 
tract an  antipathy  to  them.  This,  on  some  occasions,  even  the 
divinest  eloquence  "will  not  surmount. — Canrtpbdl's  Rhetoric. 


CH.  III.,  §  4.]  PERSUASION.  201 

any  description  of  composition,  except  the  speech  of  an  ad- 
vocate, a  man's  maintaining  a  certain  conclusion  is  a  presump- 
tion that  he  is  convinced  of  it  himself.  Unless  there  be  some 
special  reason  for  doubting  his  integrity  and  good  faith,  he  is 
supposed  to  mean  what  he  says,  and  to  use  arguments  that 
are  at  least  satisfactory  to  himself.  But  it  is  not  so  with  a 
pleader,  who  is  understood  to  be  advocating  the  cause  of  the 
client  who  happens  to  have  engaged  him,  and  to  have  been 
equally  ready  to  take  the  opposite  side.  The  fullest  belief  in 
his  uprightness  goes  no  farther,  at  the  utmost,  than  to  satisfy 
us  that  he  would  not  plead  a  cause  which  he  was  conscious 
was  grossly  unjust,  and  that  he  would  not  resort  to  any  unfair 
artifices.*  But  to  allege  all  that  can  fairly  be  urged  on  be- 
half of  his  client,  even  though,  as  a  judge,  he  might  be  inclined 
to  decide  the  other  way,  is  regarded  as  his  professional  duty. 
If,  however,  he  can  induce  a  jury  to  believe  not  only  in  his 
own  general  integrity  of  character,  but  also  in  his  sincere 
conviction  of  the  justice  of  his  client's  cause,  this  will  give 
great  additional  weight  to  his  pleading,  since  he  will  thus  be 
regarded  as  a  sort  of  icitness  in  the  cause.  And  this  accord- 
ingly is  aimed  at,  and  often  with  success,  by  practiced  advo- 
cates. They  employ  the  language,  and  assume  the  manner, 
of  full  belief  and  stronc;  feelins;- 


From  what  has  been  said  of  the  speaker's  recommendation 
of  himself  to  the  audience,  and  establishment  of 
his  authority  with  them,  sufficient  rules  may  oppon*e*nt.  ^^ 
readily  be  deduced  for  the  analogous  process,  the 
depreciation  of  an  opponent.  Both  of  these,  and  especially 
the  latter,  under  the  offensive  title  o^ jicrsonaliti/,  are  by  many 
indiscriminately  decried  as  unfiir  rhetorical  tricks ;  and 
doubtless  they  are,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  sophistically  em- 
ployed, and  by  none  more  effectually  than  by  those  who  are 
perpetually  declaiming  against  such  fallacies ;  the  unthinking 
hearers  not  being  prepared  to  expect  any,  from  one  who  re- 
presents himself  as  holding  them  in  such  abhorrence.  But 
surely  it  is  not  in  itself  an  unfair  topic  of  argument,  in  cases 
not  admitting  of  decisive  and  unquestionable  proof,  to  urge 

*  See  the  Discourse  appended  to  this  Part. 


202  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

that  tlie  one  party  deserves  tlie  hearers'  conj&dence,  or  that 
the  other  is  justly  an  object  of  their  distrust,  "  If  the  mea- 
sure is  a  good  one/'  it  has  been  said,  "  will  it  become  bad 
because  it  is  supported  by  a  bad  man  ?  if  it  is  bad,  will  it 
become  good  because  supported  by  a  good  man  ?  If  the  mea- 
sure be  really  inexpedient,  why  not  at  once  show  that  it  is 
so  ?  Your  producing  these  irrelevant  and  inconclusive  argu- 
ments, in  lieu  of  direct  ones,  though  not  sufficient  to  prove  that 
the  measure  you  thus  oppose  is  a  good  one,  contributes  to  prove 
that  you  yourself  regard  it  as  a  good  one."  Now  to  take  this 
for  granted,  that,  in  every  case,  decisive  arguments  to  prove 
a  measure  bad  or  good,  independent  of  all  the  consideration 
of  the  character  of  its  advocates,  could  be  found,  and  also 
could  be  made  clear  to  the  j)Grsons  addressed,  is  a  manifest 
begging  of  the  question.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  gene- 
rality of  men  are  too  much  disposed  to  consider  more  ivho 
proposes  a  measure,  than  ivJiat  it  is  tKat  is  proposed ;  and  a 
warning  against  an  excessive  tendency  to  this  way  of  judging 
is  reasonable,  and  may  be  useful ;  nor  should  any  one  escape 
censure  who  confines  himself  to  these  topics,  or  dwells  prin- 
cipally on  them,  in  cases  where  "  direct'"'  arguments  are  to  be 
expected ;  but  they  are  not  to  be  condemned  in  toto  as  "  irre- 
levant and  inconclusive,"  on  the  ground  that  they  are  only 
probable,  and  not  in  themselves  decisive.  It  is  only  in  mat- 
ters of  strict  science,  and  that,  too,  in  arguing  to  scientific 
men,  that  the  character  of  the  advocates  (as  well  as  all  other 
prohahle  arguments)  should  be  wholly  put  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. Is  every  one  chargeable  with  weakness  or  absurdity 
who  believes  that  the  earth  moves  round  the  sun,  on  the  au- 
thority of  astronomers,  without  having  himself  scientifically 
demonstrated  it  ? 

And  it  is  remarkable  that  the  necessity  of  allowing  some 
Character  of  '^Gight  to  this  Consideration,  in  political  matters, 
those  who  increases  in  proportion  as  any  country  enjoys  a 
measure^^^  fi^^  government.  If  all  the  power  be  in  the 
mostim-  hands  of  a  few  of  the  higher  orders,  who  have 

Free  govern-  the  opportunity,  at  least,  of  obtaining  education, 
^^^^-  it  is  conceivable,  whether  probable  or  not,  that 

they  may  be  brought  to  try  each  proposed  measure  exclu- 
sively on  its  intrinsic  merits  by  abstract  arguments;  but  can 
any  man,  in  his  senses,  really  believe  that  the  great  mass  of 


CH.  III.,  §  5.]  PERSUASION.  203 

the  2-)coplc,  or  even  any  considerable  portion  of  tliem,  can 
ever  possess  so  much  political  knowledge,  patience  in  investi- 
gation, and  sound  Logic,  (to  say  nothing  of  candor,)  as  to  be 
able  and  willing  to  judge,  and  to  judge  correctly,  of  every 
proposed  political  measure,  in  the  abstract,  without  any  regard 
to  their  opinion  of  the  persons  who  propose  it  ?  And  it  is 
evident,  that  in  every  case  in  which  the  hearers  are  not  com- 
pletely competent  judges,  they  not  only  will  but  must  take 
into  consideration  the  characters  of  those  who  propose,  sup- 
port, or  dissuade  any  measure — the  persons  they  are  con- 
nected with,  the  designs  they  may  be  supposed  to  entertain, 
etc.  ]  though,  undoubtedly,  an  excessive  and  exclusive  regard 
to  persons  rather  than  arguments,  is  one  of  the  chief  fallacies 
against  which  men  ought  to  be  cautioned. 

But  if  the  opposite  mode  of  judging,  in  every  case,  were 
to  be  adopted  without  limitation,  it  is  plain  that  children 
could  not  be  educated.  Indeed,  happily  for  the  world,  most 
of  them,  who  should  be  allowed  to  proceed  on  this  plan, 
would,  in  consequence,  perish  in  childhood.  A  pious  Chris- 
tian, again,  has  the  same  implicit  reliance  on  his  God,  even 
where  unable  to  judge  of  the  reasonableness  of  his  commands 
and  dispensations,  as  a  dutiful  and  affectionate  child  has  on 
a  tender  parent.  Now  though  such  a  man  is  of  course  re- 
garded by  an  Atheist  as  weak  and  absurd,  it  is  surely  on 
account  of  his  belief,  not  of  his  consequent  condact,  that  he 
is  so  regarded.  Even  Atheists  would  in  general  admit  that 
he  is  acting  reasonably,  on  the  supposition  that  there  is  a 
God,  who  has  revealed  himself  to  man. 

§5. 

In  no  way,  perhaps,  are  men,  not  bigoted  to  party,  more 
likely  to  be  misled  by  their  favorable  or  unfavor- 
able judgment  of  their  advisers,  than  in  what    derived  ^om 
relates  to  the  authority  derived  from  experience,    supposed 
Not  that  experience  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to 
have  great  weight ;  but  that  men  are  apt  not  to  consider  with 
sufficient  attention  what  it  is  that  constitutes  experience  in 
each  point;  so  that  frequently  one  man  shall  have  credit  for 
much  experience,  in  what  relates  to  the  matter  in  hand,  and 
another,  who,  perhaps,  possesses  as  much,  or  more,  shall  be 
underrated  as  wanting  it.     The  vulgar,  of  all  ranks,  need  to 


204  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

be  warned,  first,  that  time  alone  does  not  constitute  experi- 
ence; so  that  many  years  may  have  passed  over  a  man's 
head,  without  his  even  having  had  the  same  opportunities  of 
acquiring  it,  as  another,  much  younger :  secondly,  that  the 
longest  practice  in  conducting  any  business  in  one  way,  does 
not  necessarily  confer  any  experience  in  conducting  it  in  a 
different  way :  e.  g.,  an  experienced  husbandman,  or  minister 
of  state,  in  Persia,  would  be  much  at  a  loss  in  Europe ;  and 
if  they  had  some  things  less  to  learn  than  an  entire  novice, 
on  the  other  hand  they  would  have  much  to  unlearn ;  and, 
thirdly,  that  merely  being  conversant  about  a  certain  class  of 
subjects,  does  not  confer  experience  in  a  case  where  the 
operations,  and  the  end  proposed,  are  different.  It  is  said 
that  there  was  an  Amsterdam  merchant,  who  had  dealt 
largely  in  corn  all  his  life,  who  had  never  seen  a  field  of 
wheat  growing :  this  man  had  doubtless  acquired,  by  expe- 
rience, an  accurate  judgment  of  the  qualities  of  each  descrip- 
tion of  corn,  of  the  best  methods  of  storing  it,  of  the  arts 
of  buying  and  selling  it  at  a  proper  time,  etc. ;  but  he  would 
have  been  greatly  at  a  loss  in  its  cultivation  ;  though  he  had 
been,  in  a  certain  way,  long  conversant  about  corn.  Nearly 
similar  is  the  experience  of  a  practiced  lawyer  (supposing 
him  to  be  nothing  more)  in  a  case  of  legislation.  Because  he 
has  been  long  conversant  about  lata,  the  unreflecting  attribute 
great  weight  to  his  legislative  judgment;  whereas  his  con-* 
stant  habits  of  fixing  his  thoughts  on  what  the  law  is,  and 
withdrawing  it  from  the  irrelevant  question  of  what  the  law 
ought  to  be — his  careful  observance  of  a  multitude  of  rules, 
(which  afford  the  more  scope  for  the  display  of  his  skill,  in 
j)roportion  as  they  are  arbitrary  and  unaccountable,)  with  a 
studied  indifference  as  to  that  which  is  foreign  from  his  busi- 
ness, the  convenience  or  inconvenience  of  those  rules — may 
be  expected  to  operate  unfavorably  on  his  judgment  in  ques- 
tions of  legislation,  and  are  likely  to  counterbalance  the  ad- 
vantages of  his  superior  knowledge,  even  in  such  points  as 
do  bear  on  the  question. 

Again,  a  person  who  is  more  properly  to  be  regarded  as  an 

antiquarian  than  any  thing  else,  will  sometimes 

attributed  to     be  regarded  as  high  authority  in  some  subject 

antiquanani?.    respecting  whicli  he  has  perhaps  little  or  no  real 

knowledge  or  capacity,  if  he  have  collected  a  multitude  of 


CH.  III.,  §  5.]  PERSUASION.  205 

facts  relative  to  it.  Suppose,  for  instance,  a  man  of  much 
reading,  and  of  retentive  memory,  but  of  unpliilosopliical 
mind,  to  have  amassed  a  great  collection  of  particulars  re- 
specting the  writers  on  some  science,  the  times  when  they 
flourished,  the  numbers  of  their  followers,  the  editions  of 
their  works,  etc.,  it  is  not  unlikely  he  may  lead  both  others 
and  himself  into  the  belief  that  he  is  a  great  authority  in 
that  science,  when  perhaps  he  may  in  reality  know — though 
a  great  deal  about  it — nothing  of'it.  (See  Logic,  Introd.,  §  1, 
p.  37.)  Such  a  man's  mind,  compared  with  that  of  one  really 
versed  in  the  subject,  is  like  an  antiquarian  armory,  full  of 
curious  old  weapons — many  of  them  the  more  precious  from 
having  been  long  since  superseded — as  compared  with  a  well- 
stocked  arsenal,  containing  all  the  most  approved  warlike  im- 
plements fit  for  actual  service. 

In  matters  connected  with  Political  Economy,  the  experi- 
ence of  practical  men   is   often  appealed   to  in 
opposition  to  those  who  are  called  theorists )  even   fo'whaf  ^^ 
though  the  latter  perhaps  are  deducing  conclu-   constitutes 
sions  from  a  wide  induction  of  facts,  while  the   rnatters  of 
experience  of  the  others  will  often  be  found  only   Ecouomv 
to  amount  to  their  having  been  long  conversant 
with  the  details  of  office,  and  having  all  that  time  gone  on  in 
a  certain  beaten  track,  from  which  they  never  tried,  or  wit- 
nessed, or  even  imagined  a  deviation. 

So  also  the  authority  derived  from  experience  o^  Vi  practical 
miner — i.  e.,  one  who  has  wrought  all  his  life  in  one  mine — 
will  sometimes  delude  a  speculator  into  a  vain  search  for 
metal  or  coal,  against  the  opinion  perhaps  of  theoiHsts,  i.  e., 
persons  of  extensive  geological  observation. 

^'  It  may  be  added,  that  there  is  a  proverbial  maxim  which 
.bears  witness  to  the  advantage  sometimes  possessed  by  an  ob- 
servant bystander  over  those  actually  engaged  in  any  trans- 
action :  'The  looker-on  often  sees  more  of  the  game  than  tlie 
players.'  Now  the  looker-on  is  precisely  [in  Greek  Qeoypog^ 
the  theorist. 

"  When  then  you  find  any  one  contrasting,  in  this  and  in 
other  subjects,  what  he  calls  'experience,'  with  'theory,'  you« 
will  usually  perceive,  on  attentive  examination,  that  he  is  in 
reality  comparing  the  results  of  a  confined,  with  that  of  a 
loider,  experience — a  more  imperfect  and  crude  theory,  with 


206  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

one  more  cautiously  framed^  and  based  on  a  more  copious  in- 
duction.'^* 

The  consideration  then  of  the  character  of  the  speaker, 
and  of  his  opponent,  being  of  so  much  importance,  both  as 
a  legitimate  source  of  persuasion,  in  many  instances,  and  also 
as  a  topic  of  fallacies,  it  is  evidently  incumbent  on  the  orator 
to  be  well  versed  in  this  branch  of  the  art,  with  a  view  both 
to  the  justifiable  advancement  of  his  own  cause,  and  to  the 
detection  and  exposure  of  unfair  artifice  in  an  opponent.  It 
is  neither  possible,  nor  can  it  in  justice  be  expected,  that 
this  mode  of  persuasion  should  be  totally  renounced  and  ex- 
ploded, great  as  are  the  abuses  to  which  it  is  liable ;  but  the 
speaker  is  bound,  in  conscience,  to  abstain  from  those  abuses 
himself;  and,  in  prudence,  to  be  on  his  guard  against  them 
in  others. 

To  enumerate  the  various  kinds  of  impressions,  favorable 
and  unfavorable,  that  hearers  or  readers  may  en- 
hicmfslstency.  ^^rtain  concerning  any  one,  would  be  tedious  and 
superfluous.  But  it  may  be  worth  observing, 
that  a  charge  of  inconsistenci/ ,  as  it  is  one  of  the  most  dis- 
paraging, -is  also  one  that  is  perhaps  the  most  frequently 
urged  with  effect,  on  insufficient  grounds.  Strictly  speaking, 
inconsistency  (such  at  least  as  a  wise  and  good  man  is  exempt 
from)  is  the  maintaining  at  the  same  time  of  two  contradic- 
tory propositions ;  whether  expressed  in  language,  or  implied 
in  sentiments  or  conduct.  As,  e.  g.,  if  an  author,"]"  in  an 
argumentative  work,  while  he  represents  every  syllogism  as 
futile  and  fallacious  reasoning,  admits  that  all  reasoning  may 
be  exhibited  in  the  form  of  syllogisms ;  or  if  the  same  per- 
son who  censures  and  abhors  oppression,  yet  practices  it  to- 
wards others ;  or  if  a  man  prescribes  two  medicines  which 
neutralize  each  other's  effects,  etc. 

JBut  a  man  is  often  censured  as  inconsistent,  if  he  changes 

his  plans  or  his  opinions  on  any  point.    And  cer- 

uotionsof        tainly  if  he  does  this  often,  and  lightly,  that  is 

inconsistency,  good   ground   for  withholding   confidence   from 

him.     But  it  would  be  more  precise  to  characterize  him  as 

^jicJde  and  unsteady,  than  as  iriconsistent ;  because  this  use 

*  See  Political  Economy,  Lect.  III.,  p.  68. 
t  D.  Stewart. 


CII.  III.,  §  5.]  PERSUASION.  207 

of  the  term  tends  to  confound  one  fault  with  another :  viz., 
with  the  holding  of  two  incompatible  opinions  at  oiice. 

But,  moreover,  a  man  is  often  charged  with  inconsistency 
for  approving  some  parts  of  a  book,  system,  character,  etc., 
and  disapproving  others;  for  being  now  an  advocate  for 
peace,  and  now  for  war;  in  short,  for  accommodating  his 
judgment  or  his  conduct  to  the  circumstances  before  him,  as 
the  mariner  sets  his  sails  to  the  wind.  In  this  case  there  is 
not  even  any  change  of  mind  implied ;  yet  for  this  a  man  is 
often  taxed  with  inconsistency;  though  in  many  instances 
there  would  even  be  an  inconsistency  in  the  opposite  proce- 
dure; e.  g.,  in  not  shifting  the  sails,  when  the  wind  changes. 

In  the  other  case  indeed — when  a  man  does  change  his 
mind — he  implies  some  error,  either  first  or  last.  But  some 
errors  every  man  is  liable  to,  who  is  not  infallible.  He  there- 
fore who  prides  himself  on  his  consistency,  on  the  ground 
of  resolving  never  to  change  his  plans  or  opinions,  does  vir- 
tually (unless  he  means  to  proclaim  himself  either  too  dAll 
to  detect  his  mistakes,  or  too  obstinate  to  own  them)  lay 
claim  to  infallibility.  And  if  at  the  same  time  he  ridicules 
(as  is  often  done)  the  absurdity  of  a  claim  to  infallibility,  he 
is  guilty  of  a  gross  inconsistency  in  the  proper  and  primary 
sense  of  the  word. 

But  it  is  much  easier  to  boast  of  consistency  than  to  pre- 
serve it.  For  as,  in  the  dark,  or  in  a  fog,  adverse  troops  may 
take  post  near  each  other,  without  mutual  recognition,  and 
consequently  without  contest,  but,  soon  as  daylight  comes, 
the  weaker  gives  place  to  the  stronger;  so,  in  a  misty  and 
darkened  mind,  the  most  incompatible  opinions  may  exist 
together  without  any  perception  of  their  discrepancy;  till 
the  understanding  becomes  sufficiently  enjightened  to  enable 
the  man  to  reject  the  less  reasonable  opinions,  and  retain  the 
opposite. 

It  may  be  added,  that  it  is  a  very  fair  ground  for  disparag- 
ing any  one's  judgment,  if  he  maintains  any  doctrine  or  sys- 
tem, avowedly  for  the  sake  of  consistency.  Thai  must 
always  be  a  bad  reason.  If  the  system,  etc.,  is  riglit^  you 
should  pursue"  it  because  it  is  right,  and  not  because  you 
have  pursued  it  hitherto;  if  it  is.  wrong,  your  having  once 
committed  a  fault  is  a  poor  reason  to  give  for  persisting  in  it. 
He  therefore  who  makes  such  an  avowal  may  fairly  be  con- 


208  ■  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

sidered  as  thenceforward  entitled  to  no  voice  in  tlie  question. 
His  decision  having  been  already  given,  once  for  all,  with  a 
resolution  not  to  reconsider  it,  or  to  be  open  to  conviction 
from  any  fresh  arguments,  his  re-declarations  of  it  are  no 
more  to  be  reckoned  repeated  acts  of  judgment,  than  new 
impressions  from  a  stereotype  plate  are  to  be  regarded  as  new 
editions.  In  short,  according  to  the  proverbial  phrase,  "  His 
bolt  is  shot." 

It  only  remains  to  observe,  on  this  head,  that  (as  Aristotle 
teaches)  the  place  for  the  disparagement  of  an  opponent  is, 
for  the  first  speaker,  near  the  close  of  his  discourse,  to  weaken 
the  force  of  what  may  be  said  in  reply ;  and,  for  the  oppo- 
nent, near  the  opening,  to  lessen  the  influence  of  what  has 
been  already  said. 

§6. 

'Either  a  personal  prejudice,  such  as  has  been  just  men- 
tioned, or  some  other  passion  unfavorable  to  the 
pas.SonTtobe  Speaker's  object,  may  already  exist  in  the  minds 
allayed  or        ^f  the  hearers,  which  it  must  be  his  business  "to 

diverted.  ,,  •' 

allay. 
It  is  obvious  that  this  will  the  most  eifectually  be  done, 
not  by  endeavoring  to  produce  a  state  of  perfect  calmness  and 
apathy,  but  by  exciting  some  contrary  emotion.  And  here  it 
is  to  be  observed  that  some  passions  may  be,  rhetorically  s^^eah- 
tng,  opposite  to  each  other,  though  in  strictness  they  are  not 
so;  viz.,  whenever  they  are  incompatible  with  each  other. 
E.  g. :  The  opposite,  strictly  speaking,  to  anger,  would  be  a 
feeling  of  good  will  and  approbation  towards  the  person  in 
cjuestion;  but  it  is.  not  by  the  excitement  of  this,  alone,  that 
anger  may  be  allayed ;  for  fear  is,  practically,  contrary  to  it 
also;  as  is  remarked  by  Aristotle,  who  philosophically  ac- 
counts for  this,  on  the  principle  that  anger,  implying  a  desire 
to  inflict  j)unish7ne7it,  must  imply  also  a  supposition  that  it  is 
possible  to  do  so ;  and  accordingly  men  do  not,  he  says,  feel 
anger  towards  one  who  is  so  much  superior  as  to  be  manifestly 
out  of  their  reach;  and  the  object  of  their 'anger  ceases  to 
be  so,  as  soon  as  he  becomes  an  object  of  apprehension.  Of 
course  the  converse  also  of  this  holds  good :  anger,  when  it 
prevails,  in  like  manner  subduing  fear.     Savage  nations,  ac- 


en.  ITT.,  §  G.]  PERSUASION.  209 

cordingly,  having  no  military  discipline,  are  accustomed  to 
work  themselves  up  into  a  frenzy  of  rage  by  their  war-songs 
and  dances,  in  order  to  excite  themselves  to  courage.*  Com- 
passion, likewise,  may  be  counteracted  either  by  disapprobation, 
by  jealousy,  by  fear,  by  ridicule,  or  by  disgust  and  horror; 
and  envy,  either  by  good  will  or  by  contempt. 

This  is  the  more  necessary  to  bo  attended  to,  in  order  that 
the  orator  may  be  on  his  guard  against  inadvertently  defeat- 
ing his  own  object,  by  exciting  feelings  at  variance  with  those 
lie  is  endeavoring  to  produce,  though  not  strictly  contrary  to 
them.  Aristotle  accordingly  notices,  with  this  view,  the  dif- 
ference between  the  "pitiable'^  (eXeeivov)  and  the  "horrible 
or  shocking/'  {Setvov,)  which,  as  he  observes,  excite  differ- 
ent feelings,  destructive  of  each  other ;  so  that  the  orator 
must  be  warned,  if  the  former^  is  his  object,  to  keep  clear  of 
any  thing  that  may  excite  the  latter. 

The  remark,  cited  by  Aristotle,  of  the  rhetorician  Gorgias, 
that  the  serious  arguments  of  an  opponent  are  to  ^. ,. 

be  met  by  ridicule,  and  his  ridicule  by  serious 
argument,  (which  is  evidently  one  that  might  be  extended, 
in  principle,  to  other  feelings  besides  the  sense  of  the  ludi- 
crous,) is,  of  course,  only  occasionally  applicable  in  practice ', 
and  considerable  tact,  is  requisite  for  perceiving  suitable  oc- 
casions, and  employing  them  judiciously.  For  a  failure  does 
great  injury  to  him  who  makes  the  attempt.  If  you  very 
gravely  deprecate  some  ridicule  that  has  been  thrown  out, 
without  succeeding  in  destroying  its  force,  you  increase  its 
force;  hec^use  n  contrast  between  the  solemn  and  the  ludi- 
crous heightens  the  effect  of  the  latter.  And  if,  again,  you 
attempt  unsuccessfully  to  make  a  jest  of  what  the  persons 
addressed  regard  as  strong  arguments  and  serious  subjects, 
you  raise  indignation  or  contempt ;  and  are  also  considered 
as  having,  confessedly,  no  serious  and  valid  objections. to 
offer. 

Of  course,  regard  must  be  had  to  the  character  of  those 
you  are  addressing.  If  these  are  ignorant  of  the  subject, 
superficial,  and  unthinking,  they  will  readily  join  in  ridicule 
of  such  reasoning  as  the  better-informed  and  more  judicious 

*  See  Arist.  *'Rhet.,"  B.  IL,  in  his  Treatises  on  '0/r/?/  and  4>(y/3of ; 
and  "Ethics,"  B.  III.,  on  Qvfioc. 


210  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

would  despise  them  for  not  appreciating.  And  again,  they 
may  easily  be  brought  (as  has  been  remarked  above,  Part  I., 
chap,  iii.,  §  7)  to  regard  a  valid  argument  which  exposes  to 
ridicule  some  sophistry,  as  nothing  more  than  a  joke.* 

But  whe'n  you  wish  to  expose  to  ridicule  something  really 
deserving  of  it  which  has  been  advanced  seriously,  or  to  res- 
cue from  ridicule  what  has  been  unfairly  made  a  jest  of,  it 
will  usually  be  advisable  to  keep  a  little  aloof,  for  a  time, 
from  the  very  point  in  question,  till  you  have  brought  men's 
minds,  by  the  introduction  of  suitable  topics,  into  the  mood 
required — the  derisive,  or  the  serious,  as  the  case  may  be — 
and  then  to  bring  them  up  to  that  point,  prepared  to  view  it 
quite  differently  from  what  they  had  done.  And  if  this  be 
skilfully  managed,  the  effect  will  sometimes  be  very  striking. 

Such  a  procedure,  it  should  be  added,  is  sometimes  (as  I 
have  above  remarked,  Part  I.,  chap,  iii.,  §  7)  adopted  un- 
fairly ;  that  is,  men  who  are  mortified  at  finding  the  absurdity 
of  their  conduct,  their  tenets,  or  their  arguments  exposed  to 
contemptuous  ridicule,  will  often  persuade  others,  and  even 
themselves,  that  this  mortification  is  a  feeling  af  pious  indig- 
nation in  behalf  of  a  serious  or  sacred  subject,  against 
which  they  falsely  represent  the  ridicule  as  having  been 
directed.  Great  caution,  therefore,  is  requisite — as  is  for- 
merly remarked — in  employing  such  a  weapon  as  ridicule. 

It  will  often  happen-  that  it  will  be  easier  to  give  a  new 
direction  to  the  unfavorable  passion  than  to  subdue  it;  e.  g., 

*  It  is  almost  superfluous  to  remark,  that  there  is  a  dignified  and 
an  undignified  way  of  employing  either  irony  or  any  kind  of  ridicule. 
The  sort  of  character  which  Aristotle  calls  '■^Bomolochus^^ — answer- 
ing apparently  to  what  we  call  in  colloquial  language  a  "wag,"  or  a 
"jack-pudding" — one  who  lays  himself  out  to  divert  the  hearers  or 
readers  at  any  cost ;  or  any  one,  again,  who  displays  a  flippant  and 
trifling  levity  of  character  that  seems  incapable  of  viewing  any  thing 
seriously,  or  such  a  tone  of  heartless  and  unfeeling  mockery  as  de- 
notes an  incapacity  for  any  tender  or  kindly  sentiment — any  such 
person,  though  he  may  manifest  such  ability  as  to  make  one  dread 
him  for  an  opponent,  is  likely  to  be  still  more  dangerous  to  the  cause 
he  espouses. 

And  it  is  a  common  practice  of  skilful  sophists  to  confound  with 
such  a  character  as  one  of  these  last,  any  one,  however  opposite  to 
it,  who  may  have  successfully  derided  some  absurdity  they  may  have 
been  maintaining  ;  and  thus  to  hold  him  up  to  detestation  and  scorn. 


V. 


PERSUASION. 


211 


to  turn  tlie  indioiiation,  or  the  laughter,  of  the  hearers 
against  a  different  object.  Indeed,  whenever  the  case  will 
admit  of  this,  it  will  generally  prove  the  more  successful  ex- 
pedient; because  it  docs  not  imply  the  accomplishment  of  so 
great  a  change  in  the  minds  of  the  hearers.  Sec  above^ 
Chap.  II.,  §  6. 


LECTURE  ON  THE  INTELLECTUAL  AND  MORAL  INFLUENCES 
OF  THE  PROFESSIONS.  DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  SOCIETY 
OF  THE  DUBLIN  LAW  INSTITUTE,  ON  THE  31ST  OF  JANU- 
ARY, 1842.     [see  note  on  page  189.] 

Some  ancient  writer  relates  of  the  celebrated  Hannibal, 
that  during  his  stay  at  some  regal  court,  the  evening  enter- 
tainment on  one  occasion  consisted  of  a  discourse,  (what  we 
in  these  days  should  call  a  "lecture,")  which  an  aged  Greek 
philosopher,  named  Phormio,  if  I  remember  rightly,  had  the 
honor  of  being  permitted  to  deliver  before  the  king  and 
courtiers.  It  was  on  the  qualifications  and  duties  of  a  gen- 
eral. The  various  high  endowments,  the  several  branches  of 
knowledge,  and  the  multifarious  cares  and  labors  appertaining 
to  an  accomplished  military  leader,  were  set  forth,  as  most  of 
the  hearers  thought,  with  so  much  ability  and  elegance,  that 
the  discourse  was  received  with  general  applause.  But,  as 
was  natural,  eager  inquiries  were  made  what  was  thought  of 
it  by  so  eminent  a  master  in  the  art  military  as  Hannibal. 
On  his  opinion  being  asked,  he  replied,  with  soldier-like  blunt- 
ness,  that  he  had  often  heard  old  men  talk  dotage,  but  that  a 
greater  dotard  than  Phormio  he  had  never  met  with. 

He  would  not,  however,  have  been  reckoned  a  dotard — at 
least  he  would  not  have  deserved  it  (as  he  did) — if  he  had 
had  the  sense,  instead  of  giving  instructions  in  the  military 
art  to  one  who  knew  so  much  more  of  it  than  himself,  to  have 
addressed  an  audience  of  military  men,  not  as  soldiers,  but  as 
human  beings ;  and  had  set  before  them,  correctly  and  clearly, 
the  effects,  mtellectual  and  moral,  likely  to  be  produced  on 
them,  as  men,  by  the  study  and  the  exercise  of  tlieir  profes- 
sion.    For  that  is  a  point  on  which  men  of  each  profession 


212  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   H. 

respectively  are  so  far  from  being  necessarily  the  best  judges, 
that,  other  things  being  equal,  they  are  likely  to  be  rather 
less  competent  judges  than  those  in  a  different  walk  of  life. 

That  each  branch  of  study,  and  each  kind  of  business,  has 
a  tendency  to  influence  the  character,  and  that  any  such  tend- 
ency, if  operating  in  excess,  exclusively,  and  unmodified  by 
other  causes,  is  likely  to  produce  a  corresponding  mental  dis- 
ease or  defect,  is  what  no  one  I  suppose  would  deny.  It 
would  be  reasonable  as  an  antecedent  conjecture;  and  the 
confirmation  of  it  by  experience  is  a  matter  of  common  re- 
mark. I  have  heard  of  a  celebrated  surgeon,  whose  attention 
had  been  chiefly  directed  to  cases  of  deformity,  who  remarked 
that  he  scarcely  ever  met  an  artisan  in  the  street  but  he  was 
able  to  assure  himself  at  the  first  glance  what  his  trade  was. 
He  could  perceive,  in  persons  not  actually  deformed,  tha.t  par- 
ticular gait  or  attitude — that  particular  kind  of  departure 
from  exact  symmetry  of  form — that  disproportionate  develop- 
ment and  deficiency  in  certain  muscles,  which  distinguished, 
to  his  anatomical  eye,  the  porter,  the  smith,  the  horse-breaker, 
the  stone-cutter,  and  other  kinds  of  laborers,  from  each  other. 
And  he  could  see  all  this,  through,  and  notwithstanding,  all 
the  individual  differences  of  original  structure,  and  of  various 
accidental  circumstances. 

Bodily  peculiarities  of  this  class  may  be,  according  to  the 
degree  to  which  they  exist,  either  mere  inelegancies  hardly 
worth  noticing,  or  slight  inconveniences,  or  serious  deformi- 
ties, or  grievous  diseases.  The  same  may  be  said  of  those 
mental  peculiarities  which  the  several  professional  studies 
and  habits  tend,  respectively,  to  produce.  They  may  be,  ac- 
cording to  the  degree  of  them,  so  trifling  as  not  to  amount 
even  to  a  blemish ;  or  slight,  or  more  serious  defects ;  or 
cases  of  complete  mental  distortion. 

You  will  observe  that  I  shall  throughout  confine  myself  to 
the  consideration  of  the  disadvantages  and  dangers  pertain- 
ing to  each  profession,  without  touching  on  the  intellectual 
and  moral  hcnefits  that  may  result  from  it.  You  may  often 
hear  from  persons  gifted  with  what  the  ancients  called  epi- 
deictic  eloquence,  very  admirable  and  gratifying  panegyrics 
on  each  profession,  j^ut  with  a  view  to  practical  utility,  the 
consideration  of  dangers  to  be  guarded  against  is  incompar- 
ably the  most  important ;  because  to  men  in  each  respective 


PERSUASION.  213 

profession,  the  hencjicial  results  will  usually  take  place  even 
without  their  thinking  about  them  ]  whereas  the  dangers  re- 
quire to  be  carefully  noted,  and  habitually  contemplated,  in 
order  that  they  may  be  effectually  guarded  against.  A  phy- 
sician who  had  a  friend  about  to  settle  in  a  hot  climate,  would 
be  not  so  likely  to  dwell  on  the  benefits  he  would  derive  spon- 
taneously from  breathing  a  warmer  air,  as  to  warn  him  of  the 
dangers  of  sun-strokes  and  of  marsh  exhalations. 

And  it  may  be  added  that  a  description  of  the  faulty  habits 
which  the  members  of  each  profession  are  in  especial  danger 
of  acquiring,  amounts  to  a  high  culogiuni  on  each  individual, 
in  proportion  as  he  is  exempt  from  those  faults. 

To  treat  fully  of  such  a  subject  would  of  course  require 
volumes ',  but  it  may  be  not  unsuitable  to  the  present  occa- 
sion to  throw  out  a  few  slight  hints,  such  as  may  be  sufficient 
to  turn  your  attention  to  a  subject  which  appears  to  me  not 
only  curious  and  interesting,  but  of  great  practical  import- 
ance. 

There  is  one  class  of  dangers  pertaining  alike  to  every  pro- 
fession, every  branch  of  study,  every  kind  of  distinct  pursuit. 
I  mean  the  danger  in  each,  to  him  who  is  devoted  to  it,  of 
overrating  its  importance  as  compared  with  others ;  and,  again, 
of  unduly  extending  its  province.  To  a  man  who  has  no  en- 
larged views,  no  general  cultivation  of  mind,  and  no  familiar 
intercourse  with  the  enlightened  and  the  worthy  of  other 
classes  besides  his  own,  the  result  must  be  more  or  less  of  the 
several  forms  of  narroio-'niindedness.  To  apply  to  all  ques- 
tions, on  all  subjects,  the  same  principles  and  rules  of  judging 
that  are  suitable  to  the  particular  questions  and  subjects 
about  which  he  is  especially  conversant )  to  bring  in  those 
subjects  and  questions  on  all  occasions,  suitable  or  unsuitable 
— like  the  painter  Horace  alludes  to,  who  introduced  a  cypress 
tree  into  the  picture  of  a  shipwreck ;  to  regard  his  own 
peculiar  pursuit  as  the  one  important  and  absorbing  interest; 
to  look  on  all  other  events,  transactions,  and  occupations, 
chiefly  as  they  minister  more  or  less  to  that — to  view  the 
present  state  and  past  history  of  the  world  chiefly  in  reference 
to  that ;  and  to  feel  a  clannish  attachment  to  the  members  of 
the  particular  profession  or  class  he  belongs  to,  as  a  hod)/  or 
.class,  (an  attaclimenti,  by-the-by,  which  is  often  limited  to  the 
collective  class,  and  not  accompanied  with  kindly  feelings 


214  ELEMENTS   DF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

towards  the  individual  members  of  it,)  and  to  have  more  or 
less  an  alienation  of  feeling  from  those  of  other  classes — all 
these,  and  many  other  such,  are  symptoms  of  that  narrow- 
mindedness  which  is  to  be  found,  alike,  mutatis  mutandis,  in 
all  who  do  not  carefully  guard  themselves  against  it,  whatever 
may  be  the  profession  or  department  of  study  of  each.* 

Against  this  kind  of  danger  the  best  preservative,  next  to 
that  of  being  thoroughly  aware  of  it,  will  be  found  in  varied 
reading  and  varied  society ;  in  habitual  intercourse  with 
men — whether  living  or  dead,  whether  personally  or  in  their 
works — of  different  professions  and  walks  of  life,  and,  I  may 
add,  of  different  countries  and  different  ages  from  our  own. 

It  is  remarked,  in  a  work  by  Bishop  Copleston,  ^'  that  Locke, 
like  most  other  writers  on  education,  occasionally  confounds 
two  things,  which  ought  to  be  kept  perfectly  distinct :  viz., 
that  mode  of  education  which  would  be  most  beneficial,  as  a 
system^  to  society  at  large,  with  that  which  would  contribute 
most  to  the  advantage  and  prosperity  of  an  individual.  These 
things  are  often  at  variance  with  each  other.  The  former  is 
that  alone  which  deserves  the  attention  of  a  philosopher  -,  the 
latter  is  narrow,  selfish,  and  mercenary.  It  is  the  last  indeed 
on  which  the  world  are  most  eager  to  inform  themselves ;  but" 
the  persons  who  instruct  them,  however  they  may  deserve 
the  thanks  and  esteem  of  those  whom  they  benefit,  do  no 
service  to  mankind.  There  are  but  so  many  good  places  in 
the  theatre  of  life;  and  he  who  puts  us  in  the  way  of  pro- 
curing one  of  them,  does  to  us  indeed  a  great  favor,  but  none 
to  the  whole  assembly.^'  And  in  the  same  work  it  is  further 
observed,  that,  ''In  the  cultivation  of  literature  is  found  that 
common  link,  which  among  the  higher  and  middling  depart- 
ments of  life  unites  the  jarring  sects  and  subdivisions  in  one 
interest ;  which  supplies  common  topics,  and  kindles  common 
feelings,  unmixed  with  those  narrow  prejudices  with  which 
all  professions  are  more  or  less  infected.  The  knowledge, 
too,  which  is  thus  acquired,  expands  and  enlarges  the  mind, 
excites  its  faculties,  and  calls  those  limbs  and  muscles  into 
freer  exercise,  which,  by  too  constant  use  in  one  direction, 
not  only  acquire  an  illiberal  air,  but  are  apt  also  to  lose  some- 

■^  See  above,  Part  I.,  chap,  iii.,  ^  2,  ou  the  presumption  for  and 
against  the  judgment  of  professional  men. 


PERSUASION.  215 

what  of  tlioir  native  play  and  energy.  And  thus,  without 
directly  qualifying  a  man  for  any  of  the  employments  of  life, 
it  enriches  and  ennobles  all :  without  teaching  him  the  pecu- 
liar benefits  of  any  one  office  or  calling,  it  enables  him  to  act 
his  part  in  each  of  them  with  better  grace  and  more  ele- 
vated carriage ;  and,  if  happily  planned  and  conducted,  is  a 
main  ingredient  in  that  complete  and  generous  education, 
which  fits  a  man*  Ho  perform  justly,  skilfully,  and  magnani- 
mously, all  the  offices,  both  private  and  public,  of  peace  and 
war."' 

But  to  pass  from  the  consideration  of  the  dangers  common 
to  all,  and  to  proceed  to  what  is  peculiar  to  each,  I  will  begin 
by  pointing  out  one  or  two  of  those  which  especially  pertain 
to  the  CLERICAL  profession. 

The  first  that  I  shall  notice  is  one  to  which  I  have  fre- 
quently called  attention,  as  being  likely  to  beset  all  persons  in 
proportion  as  they  are  occupied  about  things  sacred ;  in  dis- 
cussing, and  especially  in  giving  instruction  on,  moral  and 
religious  subjects — and  the  clergy  accordingly  must  be  the 
most  especially  exposed  to  this  danger — to  the  danger:,  I  mean, 
of  that  callous  indifference,  which  is  proverbially  apt  to  be 
the  result  of  familiarity.  On  this  point  there  are  some  most 
valuable  remarks  by  Bishop  Butler,  which  I  have  adverted  to 
on  various  occasions,  and,  among  others,  in  a  portion  (which 
I  will  here  take  the  liberty  of  citing)  of  the  last  unpublished 
Charge  I  had  occasion  to  deliver. 

"'Going  over,'  says  Bishop  Butler,  'the  theory  of  virtue 
in  one's  thoughts,  talking  well,  and  drawing  fine  pictures  of 
it — this  is  so  far  from  necessarily  or  certainly  conducing  to 
form  a  habit  of  it  in  him  who  thus  employs  himself,  that  it 
may  harden  the  mind  in  a  contrary  course,  and  render  it 
gradually  more  insensible,  i.  e.,  form  an  habit  of  insensibility 
to  all  moral  considerations.  For,  from  our  very  faculty  of 
habits,  passive  impressions,  by  being  repeated,  grow  weaker; 
thoughts,  by  often  passing  through  the  mind,  are  felt  less 
sensibly.  Being  accustomed  to  danger  begets  intrepidity, 
i.  e.,  lessens  fear;  to  distress,  lessens  the  passion  of  pity;  to 
instances  of  others'  mortality,  the  sensible  apprehension  of 
our  own.     And  from  these  two  observations  together — that 

*  Milton. 


216  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

practical  habits  are  formed  and  strengtliened  by  repeated  acts, 
and  that  passive  impressions  grow  weaker  by  being  repeated 
upon  us — it  must  follow  that  active  habits  may  be  gradually 
forming  and  strengthening,  by  a  course  of  acting  upon  such 
motives  and  excitements,  while  these  motives  and  excitements 
themselves  are  by  proportionable  degrees  growing  less  sensible, 
i.  e.,  are  continually  less  and  less  sensibly /e/^f,  even  as  the  ac- 
tive habits  strengthen.  And  experience  confirms  this;  for 
active  principles,  at  the  very  same  time  that  they  are  less 
lively  in  perception  than  they  were,  are  found  to  be  somehow 
wrought  more  thoroughly  into  the  temper  and  character,  and 
become  more  effectual  in  influencing  our  practice.  The  three 
things  just  mentioned  may  afford  instances  of  it :  perception 
of  danger  is  a  natural  excitement  of  passive  fear  and  active 
caution ;  and  by  being;  inured  to  danger,  habits  of  the  lattei? 
are  gradually  wrought,  at  the  same  time  that  the  former 
gradually  lessens.  Perception  of  distress  in  others  is  a 
natural  excitement,  passively  to  pity,  and  actively  to  relieve 
it ;  but  let  a  man  set  himself  to  attend  to,  inquire  out,  and 
relieve  distressed  persons,  and  he  cannot  but  grow  less  and 
less  sensibly  affected  with  the  various  miseries  of  life  with 
which  he  must  become  acquainted  ]  when  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  benevolence,  considered  not  as  a  passion,  but  as  a  prac- 
tical principle  of  action,  will  strengthen;  and  whilst  he  pas- 
sively compassionates  the  distressed  less,  he  will  acquire  a 
greater  aptitude  actively  to  assist  and  befriend  them.  So 
also  at  the  same  time  that  the  daily  instances  of  men's  dying 
around  us  gives  us  daily  a  less  sensible  passive  feeling  or 
apprehension  of  our  own  mortality,  such  instances  greatly 
contribute  to  the  strengthening  a  practical  regard  to  it  in 
serious  men ;  i.  e.,  to  forming  a  habit  of  acting  with  a  con- 
stant view  to  it.  And  this  seems  again  further  to  show  that 
passive  impressions  made  upon  our  minds  by  admonition,  ex- 
perience, example,  though  they  may  have  a  remote  efficacy, 
and  a  very  great  one,  towards  forming  active  habits,  yet  can 
have  this  efficacy  no  otherwise  than  by  inducing  us  to  such  a 
course  of  action  ;  and  that  it  is  not  being  affected  so  and  so, 
but  acting,  which  forms  those  habits.  Only  it  must  always 
be  remembered,  that  real  endeavors  to  enforce  good  impres- 
sions upon  ourselves  arc  a  species  of  virtuous  action.'" 
Thus  far  Bishop  Butler.     ^'That  moral  habits/'  I  proceeded 

I 


PERSUASION.  217 

to  say,  "can  only  be  acquired  by  practical  ciforts,  was  long 
since  remarked  by  Aristotle;  who  ridicules  those  that  at- 
tended philosophical  discourses  with  an  expectation  of  im- 
provement, while  they  contented  themselves  with  listening, 
understanding,  and  approving :  comparing  them  to  a  patient 
who  should  hope  to  regain  health  by  listening  to  his  physi- 
cian's directions,  without  following  them.  But  he  omitted  to 
add,  as  Bishop  Butler  has  done,  that  such  a  procedure  is 
much  1007'se  than  useless,  being  positively  dangerops. 

"I  need  hardly  remark,  that  what  the  author  says  of  virtue 
is  at  least  equally  applicable  to  religion ;  and  that,  conse- 
quently, no  one  is  so  incurably  and  hopelessly  hardened  in 
practical  irreligion  as  one  who  has  the  most  perfect  familiarity 
with  religious  subjects  and  religious  feelings,  without  having 
cultivated  corresponding  active  principles.  It  is  he  that  is, 
emphatically,  'the  barren  fig  tree'  which  has  'no  fruit  on  it, 
but  leaves  only !'  not  a  tree  standing  torpid  and  destitute  of 
all  vegetation,  during  the  winter's  frost  or  summer's  drought, 
and  capable  of  being  called  into  life  and  productiveness  by 
rain  and  sunshine ;  but  a  tree  in  full  vigor  of  life  and  growth, 
whose  sap  is  all  diverted  from  the  formation  of  fruit,  and  is 
expended  in  flourishing  boughs  that  bear  only  barren  leaves." 

I  need  hardly  say  that  the  danger  I  have  been  now  al- 
luding to,  as  it  is  one  which  besets  each  person  the  more  in 
proportion  as  he  is  conversant  about  religious  and  moral  dis- 
cussions, studies  and  reflections,  is  accordingly  one  which  the 
clergjj  most  especially  should  be  vigilantly  on  their  guard 
against,  as  being  professionally  occupied  with  this  class 
of  subjects. 

They  are  professionally  exposed  again  to  another  danger, 
chiefly  intellectual,  from  the  circumstance  of  their  having 
usually  to  hold  so  much  intercourse,  in  their  private  minis- 
trations, with  persons  whose  reasoning  powers  are  either 
naturally  weak,  or  very  little  cultivated,  or  not  called  forth 
on  those  subjects  and  on  those  occasions  on  which  they  are 
conversing  professionally  with  a  clergyman.  How  large  a 
proportion  of  mankind,  taken  indiscriminately,  must  be  ex- 
pected to  fall  under  one  or  other  of  these  descriptions,  we 
must  be  well  aware  ;  and  it  is  with  mankind  thus  taken  indis- 
criminately^ that  the  clergy  in  the  domestic  portion  of  their 
ministrations  are  to  hold  intercourse.      Even  a*  dispropor- 


218  ELEMENTS*  OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

tionate  share  of  their  attention  is  usually  claimed  by  the 
poorer,  the  younger,  and,  in  short,  generally  the  less  educated 
among  their  people.  Among  these  there  must  of  course 
always  be  a  large  proportion  who  will  be  often  more  readily 
influenced  by  a  fallacious  than  by  a  sound  reason ;  who  will 
often  receive  readily  an  insufficient  explanation,  and  will  often 
be  prevented  by  ignorance,  or  dulness,  or  prejudice,  from 
admitting  a  correct  one.  And  moreover,  of  those  whose 
qualifications  are  higher,  as  respects  other  subjects,  there  arc 
not  a  few  who,  on  moral  and  religious  subjects,  (from  various 
causes,)  fall  far  short  of  themselves.  There  are  not  a  few, 
e.  g.,  who,  while  in  the  full  vigor  of  body  and  mind,  pay  little 
or  no  attention  to  any  such  subjects;  and  when  enfeebled  in 
their  mental  powers  by  sickness,  or  sudden  terror,  or  decrepit 
age,  will  resign  themselves  to  indiscriminate  credulity — who 
at  one  time  will  listen  to  nothing^  and  at  another  will  listen 
to  any  thing. 

With  all  these  classes  of  persons,  then,  a  clergyman  is  led, 
in  the  course  of  his  jDrivate  duty,  to  have  much  intercourse. 
And  that  such  intercourse  is  likely  to  be  any  thing  but  im- 
proving to  the  reasoning  faculties — to  their  development,  or 
their  correction,  or  even  to  sincerity  and  fairness  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  them — is  sufficiently  evident.  The  danger  is  one 
which  it  is  important  to  have  clearly  before  us.  When  a 
man  of  good  sense  distinctly  perceives  it,  and  carefully  and 
habitually  reflects  on  it,  he  will  not  be  much  at  a  loss  as  to 
the  means  by  which  it  is  to  be  guarded  against. 

You  will  observe  that  I  have  pointed  out  under  this  head 
a  moral  as  well  as  an  intellectual  danger.  And  in  truth  the 
temptation  is  by  no  means  a  weak  one,  even  to  one  who  is  far 
from  an  insincere  character  altogether,  to  lead  ignorant,  or 
ill-educated,  and  prejudiced  men  into  what  he  is  convinced 
is  best  for  them,  by  unsound  reasons,  when  he  finds  them  in- 
disposed to  listen  to  sound  ones;  thus  satisfying  his  con- 
science that  he  is  making  a  kind  of  compensation,  since  there 
really  a?-e  good  grounds  (though  they  cannot  see  them)  for 
the  conclusion  he  advocates ;  till  he  acquires  a  habit  of  tam- 
pering with  truth,  and  finally  loses  all  reverence  and  all 
relish  for  it.* 

*  See  Essay  on  "Pious  Frauds,"  Third  Series;  and  Dr.  West's 
Discourse  on  "Reserve." 


PERSUASION.  219 

Another  class  of  dangers,  and  perhaps  the  greatest  of  all  to 
which  the  clergy  are  professionally  exposed,  and  which  is  the 
last  I  shall  mention,  is  the  temptation  to  prefer  popularity  to 
truth,  and  the  present  comfort  and  gratification  of  the  people 
to  their  ultimate  welfare.  The  well-known  fable  of  Mo- 
hammed and  -the  mountain,  which  he  found  it  easier  to  go  to, 
himself,  than  to  make  the  mountain  come  to  him,  may  be 
regarded  as  a  sort  of  allegorical  type  of  any  one  who  seeks  to 
give  peace  of  conscience  and  satisfaction  to  his  hearers,  and 
to  obtain  applause  for  himself,  by  bringing  his  doctrine  and 
language  into  a  conformity  with  the  inclinations  and  the  con- 
duct of  his  hearers,  rather  than  by  bringing  the  character  of 
the  hearers  into  a  conformity  with  what  is  true  and  right. 
Not  that  there  are  many  who  are,  in  the  outset  at  least,  so 
unprincipled  as  deliberately  to  suppress  essential  truths,  or  to 
inculcate  known  falsehood,  for  the  sake  of  administering 
groundless  comfort,  or  gaining  applause;  but  as  "a  gift"  is 
said  in  Scripture  to  ''blind  the  eyes,"  so  the  bribe  of  popu- 
larity (especially  when  the  alternative  is  perhaps  severe  cen- 
sure, and  even  persecution)  is  likely,  by  little  and  little,  to 
bias  the  judgment — to  blind  the  eyes  first  to  the  importance, 
and  afterwards  to  the  truth,  of  unpopular  doctrines  and  pre- 
cepts, and  ultimately  to  bring  a  man  himself  to  believe  what 
his  hearers  wish  him  to  teach. 

Popularity  has,  of  course,  great  charms  for  all  classes  of 
men ;  but  in  the  case  of  a  clergyman  it  offers  this  additional 
temptation  :  that  it  is  to  him,  in  a  great  degree,  the  favorable 
opinion,  not  merely  of  the  world  in  general,  or  of  a  multitude 
assembled  on  some  special  occasion,  but  of  the  very  neighbom 
by  whom  he  is  surrounded,  and  with  whom  he  is  in  habits  of 
daily  intercourse. 

There  is  another  most  material  circumstance  also  which 
(in  respect  of  this  point)  distinguishes  the  case  of  the  clerical 
profession  from  that  of  any  other.  It  is  true  that  a  medical 
man  may  be  under  a  temptation  to  flatter  his  patients  with 
false  hopes,  to  indulge  them  in  .unsuitable  regimen,  to  substi- 
tute some  cordial  that  gives  temporary  relief,  for  salutary  but 
unpleasant  medicines,  or  painful  operations,  such  as  are  really 
needful  for  a  cure.  But  those  (and  there  are  such,  as  is  well 
known)  who  pursue  such  a  course,  can  seldom  obtain  more 
than  tanporari/  success.     When  it  is  seen  that  their  patients 


220  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II, 

do  not  ultimately  recover,  and  that  all  the  fair  promises  given, 
and  sanguine  hopes  raised,  end  in  aggravation  of  disease,  or 
in  premature  death,  the  bubble  bursts ;  and  men  quit  these 
pretenders,  for  those  whose  practice  bears  the  test  of  expe- 
rience. These,  therefore,  are  induced  by  a  regard  for  their 
own  permanent  success  in  their  profession,  as  well  as  by 
higher  motives,  to  prefer  the  correct  and  safe  mode  of  treat- 
ing their  patients.  But  it  is  far  otherwise  with  those  whose 
concern  is  with  the  diseases  of  the  soul,  not  of  the  body — 
with  the  next  life,  instead  of  this.  Their  treatment  cannot 
be  brought  to  the  same  test  of  experience  till  the  day  of  judg- 
ment. If  they  shall  have  deluded  both  their  hearers  and 
themselves  by  ''speaking  peace  when  there  is  no  peace,"  the 
flattering  cordial,  however  deleterious,  may  remain  undetected, 
and  both  parties  may  continue  in  the  error  all  their  lives,  and 
the  error  may  even  survive  them.* 

So  also  again  in  the  legal  profession  :  one  who  gives  flat- 
tering but  unsound  advice  to  his  clients,  or  who  pleads  causes 
with  specious  elegance,  unsupported  by  accurate  legal  know- 
ledge, may  gain  a  temporary,  but  seldom  more  than  a  tem- 
porary, popularity.  It  is  his  interest,  therefore,  no  less  than 
his  duty,  to  acquire  this  accurate  knowledge;  and  if  he  is 
mistaken  on  any  point,  the  decisions  of  a  court  will  give  him 
sufiicient  warning  to  be  more  careful  in  future.  But  the 
Court  which  is  finally  to  correct  the  other  class  of  mistakes, 
is  the  one  that  will  sit  on  that  last  great  day,  when  the  tares 
will  be  finally  separated  from  the  wheat,  and  when  the  "wood, 
hay,  and  stubble,"  that  may  have  been  built  up  on  the  Divine 
foundation,  by  human  folly  or  artifice,  will  be  burned  up. 

The  clergy  therefore  have  evidently  more  need  than  others 
to  be  on  their  guard  against  a  temptation,  from  which  they 
are  not,  like  others,  protected  by  considerations  of  temporal 
interest,  or  by  the  lessons  of  daily  experience. 

With  regard  to  the  medical  profession,  there  used  to  be 
(for  of  late  I  think  it  is  otherwise)  a  remark  almost  proverb- 
ially common,  that  the  members  of  it  were  especially  prone  to 
infidelity,  and  even  to  Atheism.  And  the  same  imputation 
was  by  many  persons  extended  to  those  occupied  in  such 
branches  of  physical  science  as  are  the  most  connected  with 

•^  See  "Scripture  Revelations  of  a  Future  State,"  Lect.  12. 


PERSUASION.  221 

« 

medicine;  and  even  to  scientific  men  generally.  Of  late 
years,  as  I  have  said,  this  impression  has  become  much  less 
prevalent. 

^  In  a  question  of  fact,  such  as  this,  open  to  general  observa- 
tion, there  is  a  strong  presumption  afforded  by  the  prevalence 
of  any  opinion,  that  it  has  at  least  some  kind  of  foundation 
in  truth.  There  is  a  presumption,  that  either  medical  men 
were  more  generally  unbelievers  than  the  average,  or,  at  least, 
that  those  of  them  who  were  so  were  more  ready  to  avow  it. 
In  like  manner  there  is  a  corresponding  presumption  that  in 
the  present  generation  of  medical  men  there  is  a  greater  pro- 
portion than  among  their  predecessors,  who  are  either  be- 
lievers in  revelation,  or  at  least  not  avowed  unbelievers. 

It  will  be  more  proper,  however,  instead  of  entering  on 
any  question  as  to  the  amount  and  extent,  present  or  past,  of 
the  danger  to  which  I  have  been  alluding,  to  offer  some  con- 
jectures as  to  the  cause  of  it. 

The  one  which  I  conceive  occurs  the  most  readily  to  most 
men's  minds  is,  that  a  medical  practitioner  has  no  Sunday. 
The  character  of  his  profession  does  not  admit  of  his  regularly 
abandoning  it  for  one  day  in  the  week,  and  regularly  attend- 
ing public  worship  along  with  Christians  of  all  classes.  Now, 
various  as  are  the  modes  of  observing  the  Lord's  day  in  dif- 
ferent Christian  countries,  and  diverse  as  are  the  modes  of 
worship,  there  is  perhaps  no  point  in  which  Christians  of  all 
ages  and  countries  have  been  more  agreed,  than  in  assembling 
together  for  some  kind  of  joint  worship  on  the  first  day  of  the 
week.  And  no  one,  I  think,  can  doubt  that,  independently 
of  any  edification  derived  from  the  peculiar  religious  services 
which  they  respectively  attend,  the  mere  circumstance  of. 
doing  something  every  week  as  a  religious  observance,  must 
have  some  tendency  to  keep  up  in  men's  minds  a  degree  of 
respect,  rational  or  irrational,  for  the  religion  in  whose  out- 
ward observances  they  take  a  part. 

A  physician  in  considerable  practice  must,  we  know,  often 
be  prevented  from  doing  tlfis.  And  the  professional  calls,  it 
may  be  added,  which  make  it  often  impossible  for  him  to  at- 
tend public  worship,  will  naturally  tend,  by  destroying  the 
hahit,  to  keep  him  away,  even  when  attendance  is  possible. 
Any  thing  that  a  person  is  prevented  from  doing  Imbitually, 
he  is  likely  habitually  to  omit.     There  is  \\Q)i\\m^  pccxdiar  in 


222  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

the  case  of  attendance  on  public  worship.  The  same  thing 
may  be  observed  in  many  others  equally.  A  man  placed  in 
circumstances  which  interfere  with  his  forming  or  keeping 
up  domestic  habits,  or  literary  habits,  or  habits  of  bodily  ac- 
tivity, is  likely  to  be  less  domestic,  less  literary,  more  seden- 
tary, than  his  circumstances  require. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  the  cause  I  have  now  been  adverting 
to  does  operate.  But  there  are  others,  less  obvious  perhaps, 
but  I  think  not  less  important.  A  religion  which  represents 
man's  whole  existence  as  divided  into  two  portions,  of  which 
his  life  on  earth  is  every  way  incalculably  the  smaller,  is 
forcibly  brought  before  the  mind  in  a  way  to  excite  serious 
reflections,  by  such  an  event  as  death,  when  occurring  before 
our  eyes,  or  within  our  perfect  knowledge.  Now  a  medical 
man  is  familiar  with  death;  i.  e.,  witii  the  sight  and  the 
idea  of  it.  And  the  indifference  which  is  likely  to  result 
from  such  familiarity,  I  need  not  here  dwell  on,  further  than 
to  refer  you  to  the  passage  of  Bishop  Butler  already  cited. 

But  moreover,  death  is  not  only  familiar  to  the  physician, 
but  it  is  also  familiar  to  him  as  the  final  termination  of  that 
state  of  existence  with  which  alone  he  has  2)ro/ess{onaUy  any 
concern.  As  a  Christian,  he  may  regard  it  as  preparatory  to 
a  new  state  of  existence;  but  as  a ^^hysician,  he  is  concerned 
only  with  life  in  this  world,  which  it  is  his  business  to  invig- 
orate and  to  prolong ;  and  with  death  only  as  the  final  catas- 
trophe which  he  is  to  keep  off  as  long  as  possible,  and  in 
reference  merely  to  the  physical  causes  which  have  pro- 
duced it. 

Now  the  habit  of  thus  contemplating  death  must  have  a 
.tendency  to  divert  the  mind  from  reflecting  on  it  with  refer- 
ence to  other  and  dissimilar  considerations.  For  it  may  be 
laid  down  as  a  general  maxim,  that  the  habit  of  contemplating 
any  class  of  objects  in  such  and  such  a  particular  point  of 
view,  tends,  so  far,  to  render  us  the  less  qualified  for  contem- 
plating them  in  any  other  point  of  view.  And  this  maxim, 
I  conceive,  is  capable  of  very  extensive  application  in  refer- 
ence to  all  professional  studies  and  pursuits ;  and  goes  far 
towards  furnishing  an  explanation  of  their  effects  on  the  mind 
of  the  individual. 

But  there  is  another  cause,  and  the  last  I  shall  notice 
under  the  present  head,  which   I  conceive   cooperates  fre- 


PERSUASION.  223 

qucntly  with  those  above  mentioned :   I  mean  the  practice 
common  with  many  divines  of  setting  forth  certain  physio- 
logical or  metaphysical  theories  as  part  and  parcel  of  the 
Christian  revelation,  or  as  essentially  connected  with  it.     If 
any  of  these  be  unsound,  they  may,  nevertheless,  pass  muster 
with  the  generality  of  readers  and  hearers ;  and,  however  un- 
profitable, may  be,  to  them,  at  least  harmless ;  but  they  pre- 
sent a  stumbling-block  to  the  medical  man,  and  to  the  physi- 
ologist, who  may  perceive  that  unsoundness.     For  example, 
I  have  known  divines  not  only  maintaining  the  immateriality 
of  the  soul  as  a  necessary  preliminary  to  the  reception  of 
Christianity — as   the  very  basis    of  gospel   revelation — but 
maintaining  it  by  such  arguments  as  go  to  prove  the  entire 
independence  of  mind  on  matter ;  urging,  e.  g.,  among  others, 
the  instances  of  full  manifestation  of  the  intellectual  powers 
in  persons  at  the  point  of  death.     Now  this,  or  the  opposite, 
the  physiologist  will  usually  explain  from  the  different  parts 
of  the  bodily  frame  that  are  affected  in  each  (fifferent  disease. 
If  he  believes  the  hrain  to  be  necessarily  connected  with  the 
mkid,  this  belief  will  not  be  shaken  by  the  manifestation  of 
mental  powers  in  a  person  who  is  dying  of  a  disease  of  the 
lungs.     He  will  no  more  infer  from  this  that  mind  is  wholly 
independent  of  the  body,  than  he  would,  that  sight  is  inde- 
pendent of  the  body,  because  a  man  may  retain  his  powers 
of  vision  when  his  limbs  are  crippled. 

The  questions  concerning  materialism  I  do  not  mean  to  en- 
ter upon  :  I  only  wish  to  call  your  attention  to  the  mistake 
common  to  both  parties — that  of  supposing  that  these  ques- 
tions are  vitally  connected  with  Christianity;  whereas  there 
is  not  one  word  relating  to  them  in  the  Christian  Scriptures. 
Indeed,  even  at  this  day  a  large  proportion  of  sincere 
Christians  among  the  humbler  classes  are  decidedly  material- 
ists ',  though,  if  you  inquired  of  them,  they  would  deny  it, 
because  they  are  accustomed  to  confine  the  word  matter  to 
things  perceptible  to  the  touch;  but  their  belief  in  ghosts  or 
spirits  having  been  seen  and  heard,  evidently  implies  the  pos- 
session by  these  of  what  philosophers  reckon  attributes  of 
matter.  And  the  disciples  of  Jesus  were  terrified,  we  are 
told,  when  they  saw  him  after  his  resurrection,  '^  supposing 
that  they  saw  a  spirit."  He  convinced  them,  we  read,  of  his 
being  real  flesh  and  blood;    but  whatever  may  have  been 


224  ELEMENTS   OP  RHETORIC.  [PART  II. 

their  error  as  to  the  visible — and  consequently  material- 
character  of  a  spirit,  it  does  not  appear  that  he  thought  it 
essential  to  instruct  them  on  that  head.  He  who  believed 
that  Jesus  was  truly  risen  from  the  dead,  and  that  the  same 
power  would  raise  up  his  followers  at  the  last  day,  had  se- 
cured the  foundation  of  the  Christian  faith. 

It  is  much  to-be  wished  that  religious  persons  Would  be 
careful  to  abstain — I  do- not  say,  from  entering  on  any  physio- 
logical or  metaphysical  speculations  (which  they  have  a  per- 
fect right  to  do) — but  from  mixing  up  these  with  Christian- 
ity, and  making  every  thing  that  they  believe  on  matters  at 
all  connected  with  religion,  a  part  of  their  religious  faith.  I 
remember  conversing  with  an  intelligent  man  on  the  subject 
of  some  speculations  tending  to  a  revival  of  the  doctrine  of 
equivocal  generation,  which  he  censured,  as  leading  to  Athe- 
ism. He  was  somewhat  startled  on  my  reminding  him  that 
two  hundred  years  ago  many  would  have  as  readily  set  a  man 
down  as  an  Atfleist  who  should  have  denied  that  doctrine. 
Both  conclusions  I  conceive  to  be  alike  rash  and  unwarrant- 
able. 

I  cannot  but  advert,  in  concluding  this  head,  to  the  danger 
likely  to  arise  from  the  language  of  some  divines  respecting 
a  peaceful  or  troubled  departure,  as  a  sure  criterion  of  a  Chris- 
tian or  an  unchristian  life.  '^A  death-bed's  a  detector  of  the 
heart,''  is  the  observation  of  one  of  them,  who  is  well  known 
as  a  poet.  Now,  that  a  man's  state  of  mind  on  his  death-bed 
is  often  very  much  influenced  by  his  past  life,  there  is  no 
doubt ;  but  I  believe  most  medical  men  can  testify  that  it  is 
quite  as  often  and  as  much  influenced  by  the  disease  of  which 
he  dies.  The  efi"ccts  of  certain  7iervous  and  other  disorders 
in  producing  distressing  agitation — of  the  process  of  suppu- 
7'atioji,  in  producing  depression  of  spirits — the  calming  and 
soothing  effects  of  a  mortification  in  its  last  stage,  and  many 
other  such  phenomena,  are,  I  believe,  familiar  to  practition- 
ers. When  then  they  find  promises  and  threats  boldly  held 
out  which  are  far  from  being  regularly  fulfilled — when  they 
find  various  statements  confidently  made,  some  of  which  ap- 
pear to  them  improbable,  and  others  at  variance  with  facts 
coming  under  their  own  experience,  they  are  in  danger  of 
drawing  conclusions  unfavorable  to  the  truth  of  Christianity, 
if  they  apply  too  hastily  the  maxim  of  "J^critis  credendum 


PERSUASION.  225 

es(  in  arte  sud  ;"  and  take  for  granted  on  tlie  word  of  divines 
that  whatever  they  teach  as  a  part  of  Christianity,  really  is 
so ;  without  making  inquiry  for  themselves.  They  are  indeed 
no  less  culpably  rash  in  such  a  procedure  than  any  one  would 
have  been  who  should  reason  in  a  similar  manner  from  the 
works  of  medical  men  two  or  three  hundred  years  ago,  who 
taught  the  influence  of  the  stars  on  the  human  frame,  the 
importance  of  the  moon's  phases  to  the  efficacy  of  medicines, 
and  other  such  fancies.  Should  any  one  have  thence  inferred 
that  astronomy  and  medicine  never  could  have  any  claims  to 
attention,  and  were  merely  idle  dreams  of  empty  pretenders, 
he  would  not  have  been  more  rash  than  a  physician  or  phy- 
siologist who  judges  of  Christianity  by  the  hypotheses  of  all 
who  profess  to  teach  it. 

The  effects,  moral  and  intellectual,  of  the  study  and 
PRACTICE  OF  THE  LAW,  is  a  subjcct  to  which  I  could  not  have 
done  justice  within  the  limits  of  a  single  lecture,  even  had  I 
confined  myself  to  that  one  department.  For  the  law — espe- 
cially considered  in  this  point  of  view — is  not  one  profession, 
but  many :  a  judge,  an  attorney,  a  solicitor,  a  common  law 
barrister,  a  chancery  barrister,  a  special  pleader,  etc.,  are  all 
occupied  with  law ;  but  widely  different  are  the  effects,  ad- 
vantageous and  disadvantageous,  likely  to  be  produced  on 
their  minds  by  their  respective  occupations.* 


*  It  is  worth  remarking  that  there  is  one  point  wherein  some 
branches  of  the  law  dilFer  from  others,  and  agree  with  some  profes- 
sions^ of  a  totally  different  class.  Supcrioi-  ability  and  professional 
skill  in  a  judge,  a  solicitor,  or  a  conveyancer,  ai-e,  if  combined  with 
integrity,  a,  public  hene^t  They  confer  a  service  on  certain  indivi- 
duals, not  at  the  expense  of  any  others ;  and  the  death  or  retirement 
of  a  man  thus  qualified  is  a  loss  to  the  community.  And  the  same 
may  be  said  of  a  physician,  a  manufacturer,  a  navigator,  etc.,  of  ex- 
traordinary ability.  K  pleader,  on  the  contrary,  of  powers  far  above 
the  average,  is  not,  as  such,  serviceable  to  the  public.  He  obtains 
wealth  and  credit  for  himself  and  his  family ;  but  any  especial  ad- 
vantage accruing  from  his  superior  abiUty,  to  those  who  chance  to 
be  his  clients,  is  just  so  much  loss  to  fhose  he  chances  to  be  opposed 
to ;  and  lohich  party  is,  on  each  occasion,  in  the  right,  must  be  re- 
garded as  an  even  chance.  His  death,  therefore,  would  be  no  loss  to 
the  public ;  only  to  those  particular  persons  who  might  have  bene- 
fited by  his  superior  abilities,  at  their  opponents'  expense.  It  is  not 
that  advocates,  generally,  are  not  useful  to  the  public;  they  aro 
8 


226  ELEMENTS   OF  RHETORIC.  [PART   11. 

On  this  point  I  lia¥e  thrown  out  a  slight  hint  in  a  treatise 
on  Logic,  (the  joint  work  of  Bishop  Copleston  and  myself,) 
from  which  I  will  take  the  liberty  of  citing  a  short  passage : 
[Book  IV.,  ch.  iii.,  §§  1,  2.] 

'^  Keasoning  comprehends  inferring  and  proving;  which 
are  not  two  different  things,  but  the  same  thing  regarded  in 
two  different  points  of  view :  like  the  road  from  London  to 
York,  and  the  road  from  York  to  London.  He  who  infers, 
proves ;  and  he  who  proves,  infers ;  but  the  word  ^  infer' 
fixes  the  mind  first  on  the  premiss,  and  then  on  the  conclu- 
sion :  the  word  ^  prove,'  on  the  contrary,  leads  the  mind  from 
the  conclusion  to  the  premiss.  Hence,  the  substantives  de- 
rived from  these  words  respectively  are  often  used  to  express 
that  which,  on  each  occasion,  is  last  in  the  mind ;  inferenee 
being  often  used  to  signify  the  conclusion,  (i.  e.,  proposftion 
inferred,)  and  proof  the  premiss.  "We  say,  also,  '■  How  do 
you  prove  that  V  and  '  What  do  you  infer  from  that  V  which 
sentences  would  not  be  so  properly  expressed  if  we  were  to 
transpose  those  verbs.  One  might,  therefore,  diQ&iiQ  proving, 
^  The  assigning  of  a  reason  or  argument  for  the  support  of  a 
given  proposition ;'  and  17 f erring,  ^  The  deduction  of  a  con- 
clusion from  given  premises.' 

"  In  the  one  case  our  conclusion  is  given,  (i.  e.,  set  before 
us  as  the  question,)  and  we  have  to  seek  for  arguments ;  in 
the  other,  our  premises  are  given,  and  we  have  to  seek  for  a 
conclusion — i.  e.,  to  put  together  our  own  propositions,  and 
try  what  will  follow  from  them ;  or,  to  speak  more  logically, 
in  one  case  we  seek  to  refer  the  subject  of  which  we  would 
predicate  something  to  a  class  to  which  that  predicate  will 
(affirmatively  or  negatively)  apply ;  in  the  other,  we  seek  to 
find  comprehended  in  the  subject  of  which  we  have  predi- 

even  necessary.  But  extraordinary  ability  in  an  advocate  is  an  ad- 
vantage only  to  himself  and  his  friends.  To  the  public,  the  most 
desirable  thing  is  that  pleaders  should  be  as  equally  matched  as  pos- 
sible ;  so  that  neither  John  Doe  nor  Richard  Roe  should  have  any 
advantage  independent  of  the  goodness  of  his  cause.  Extraordinary 
ability  in  an  advocate  may  indeed  raise  him  to  great  wealth,  or  to  a 
seat  on  the  bench  or  in  the  senate ;  and  he  may  use  these  advan- 
tages— as  many  illustrious  examples  show — greatly  to  the  public 
benefit.  But  then,  it  is  not  as  an  advocate,  directly,  but  as  a  rich 
man,  as  a  judge,  or  as  a  senator,  that  he  thus  benefits  his  country. 


PERSUASION.  227 

cated  something,  some  other  term  to  which  that  predicate  had 
not  been  before  applied.  Each  of  these  is  a  definition  of 
reasoning.  To  infer,  then,  is  the  business  of  the  philosopher ; 
to  prove,  of  the  advocate :  the  former,  from  the  great  mass 
of  known  and  admitted  truths,  wishes  to  elicit  any  valuable 
additional  truth  whatever  that  has  been  hitherto  unperceived, 
and  perhaps  without  knowing  with  certainty  what  will  be  the 
terms  of  his  conclusion.  Thus  the  mathematician,  e.  g., 
seeks  to  ascertain  what  is  the  ratio  of  circles  to  each  other, 
or  ivhat  is  the  line  whose  square  will  be  equal  to  a  given 
circle.  The  advocate,  on  the  other  hand,  has  a  proposition 
put  before  him,  which  he  is  to  maintain  as  well  as  he  can. 
His  business,  therefore,  is  to  find  middle  terms;  (which  is  the 
inventio  of  Cicero;)  the  philosopher's,  to  combine  and  select 
kn'own  facts  or  principles,  suitably  for  gaining  from  them  con- 
clusions which,  though  implied  in  the  premises,  were  before 
unperceived ;  in  other  words,  for  making  *  logical  discover- 
ies.' " 

To  this  I  will  take  the  liberty  of  adding  another  short  ex- 
tract from  the  treatise  on  Rhetoric  ;  which  may  furnish  a 
hint  as  to  a  class  of  dangers  common  to  men  of  every  pursuit 
and  profession :  that  of  a  person  supposing  himself,  from 
having  been  long  conversant  with  a  certain  subject,  to  be 
qualified  for  every  kind  of  business,  or  of  discussion  that  re- 
lates to  the  same  subject :  [Rhet.,  Part  II.,  chap,  iii.,  §  5.] 
"The  longest  practice  in  conducting  any  business  in  one  way 
does  not  necessarily  confer  any  experience  in  conducting  it 
in  a  difi"erent  way :  e.  g.,  an  experienced  husbandman,  or 
minister  of  state,  in  Persia,  would  be  much  at  a  loss  in  Eu- 
rope ;  and  if  they  had  some  things  less  to  learn  than  an  en- 
tire novice,  on  the  other  hand  they  would  have  much  to 
?*?ilearn ;  and,  again,  merely  being  conversant  about  a  certain 
class  of  subjects,  does  not  confer  experience  in  a  case  where 
the  operations  and  the  end  proposed  are  different.  It  is  said 
that  there  was  an  Amsterciam  merchant,  who  had  dealt  largely 
in  corn  all  his  life,  who  had  never  seen  a  field  of  wheat  grow- 
ing. This  man  had  doubtless  acquired,  by  experience,  an 
accurate  judgment  of  the  qualities  of  each  description  of 
corn — of  the  best  methods  of  storing  it — of  the  arts  of  buy- 
ing and  selling  it  at  proper  times,  etc. ;  but  he  would  have 
been  greatly  at  a  loss  in  its  cultivation,  though  he  had  been, 


228  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   U. 

in  a  certain  way,  long  conversant  about  corn.  Nearly  similar 
is  the  experience  of  a  practiced  lawyer,  (supposing  him  to  be 
nothing  more,)  in  a  case  of  legislation :  because  he  has  been 
long  conversant  about  laio,  the  unreflecting  attribute  great 
weight  to  his  judgment;  whereas  his  constant  habits  of  fixing 
his  thoughts  on  what  the  law  is,  and  withdrawing  them  from  the 
irrelevant  question  of  what  the  law  ought  to  be — his  careful 
observance  of  a  multitude  of  rules,  (which  afford  the  more 
scope  for  the  display  of  his  skill,  in  proportion  as  they  are 
arbitrary,  unreasonable,  and  unaccountable,)  with  a  studied 
indifierence  as  to  (that  which  is  foreign  from  his  business,) 
tlie  convenience  or  inconvenience  of  those  rules — may  be  ex- 
pected to  operate  unfavorably  on  his  judgment  in  questions 
of  legislation ;  and  are  likely  to  counterbalance  the  advan- 
tages of  his  superior  knowledge,  even  in  such  points  as  do 
bear  on  the  question/'* 

And  here  I  may  remark,  by  the  way,  that  a  person  engaged 
habitually  in  state  affairs — a  politician  by  profession — ought 
to  be  peculiarly  on  his  guard  against  supposing  his  mode  of 
life  to  generate  especial  qualifications  in  those  very  points  in 
which  its  tendency  is — unless  particular  care  be  taken  to 
guard  against  the  danger — to  produce  rather  a  disqualifica- 
tion. Who  is  likely  to  be  the  best  judge,  (other  points  being 
equal,)  it  might  be  asked,  of  the  relative  importance  of  poli- 
tical questions  ?  At  the  first  glance  many  would  be  disposed 
to  answer,  "  Of  course,  a  politician.''  But  the  disproportion- 
ate attention  necessarily  bestowed  on  different  questions,  ac- 
cording as  they  are  or  are  not  made  part?/  questions — the 
fields  of  battle  on  which  the  contests  for  political  superiority 
are  to  be  carried  on,  independently  of  the  intrinsic  import- 
ance of  each — this  is  a  cause  which  must  be  continually 
operating  to  disturb  the  judgment  of  one  practically  en- 
gaged in  politics.  Every  one  at  all  versed  in  history  must  be 
acquainted  with  many  instances  of  severe  and  protracted 
struggles  concerning  matters  which 'are  now  remembered  only 
on  account  of  the  struggles  they  occasioned ;  and,  again,  of 
enactments  materially  affecting  the  welfare  of  unborn  millions, 
which  hardly  attracted  any  notice  at  the  time,  and  were 

^  These  short  extracts  I  have  thought  it  best  to  reprint,  instead  of 
troubling  the  reader  to  refer  to  them. 


PERSUASION.  229 

slipped  into  one  of  the  heterogeneous  clauses  of  an  act  of 
parliament. 

Precluded,  then,  as  I  find  myself,  for  the  reasons  above 
mentioned,  from  entering  fully  on  the  consideration  of  the 
several  departments  of  legal  study  and  practice,  I  will  detain 
'you  only  with  a  few  brief  hints  respecting  some  of  the  dan- 
gers to  be  guarded  against  from  the  barrister's  profession. 

He  is,  as  I  have  already  observed,  in  less  danger  than  a 
clergyman  of  settling  down  into  some  confirmed  incorrect 
view  of  any  particular  points  connected  with  his  profession ; 
both  for  the  reason  there  given — there  being  a  court  on  earth 
to  correct  any  mistake  he  may  make — and  also  because, 
having  to  plead  various  causes,  he  is  called  upon  to  extenuate 
to-day  what  he  aggravated  yesterday — to  attach  more  and  less 
weight,  at  different  times,  to  the  same  kind  of  evidence — to 
impugn  and  to  enforce  the  same  principles,  according  as  the 
interests  of  his  clients  may  require. 

But  this  very  circumstance  must  evidently  have  a  tendency, 
which  ought  to  be  sedulously  guarded  against,  to  alienate 
the  mind  from  the  investigation  of  truth.  Bishop  Butler 
observes,  and  laments,  that  it  is  very  common  for  men  to 
have  "a  curiosity  to  know  what  is  said,  but  no  curiosity  to 
know  what  is  true."  NoW  none  can  be  (other  points  being 
equal)  more  in  need  of  being  put  on  his  guard  against  this 
fault,  than  he  who  is  professionally  occupied  with  a  multi- 
tude of  cases,  in  each  of  which  he  is  to  consider  what  may  be 
plausihly  urged  on  both  sides ;  while  the  question,  lohat  ought 
to  he  the  decision,  is  out  of  his  province  as  a  pleader.  I  am 
supposing  him  not  to  be  seeking  to  mislead  a  judge  or  jury 
by  Mvgm^  fallacious  arguments ;  but  there  will  often  be  sound 
and  valid  arguments — real  probabilities — on  opposite  sides. 
A  judge,  or  any  one  whose  business  is  to  ascertain  truth,  is 
to  decide  according  to  the  iweponderance  of  the  reasons ;  but 
the  pleader's  business  is  merely  to  set  forth,  as  forcibly  as 
possible,  those  on  his  own  side.  And  if  he  thinks  that  the 
habitual  practice  of  this  has  no  tendency  to  generate  in  him, 
morally,  any  indifference,  or,  intellectually,  any  incompetency, 
in  respect  of  the  ascertainment  of  truth — if  he  considers  him- 
self quite  safe  from  any  such  danger — I  should  then  say  that 
he  is  in  very  great  danger. 

I  have  been  supposing  (as  has  been  said)  that  he  is  one 


230  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   U. 

who  would  scruple  to  mislead  wilfully  a  judge  or  jury  by 
specious  sophistry,  or  to  seek  to  embarrass  an  honest  witness, 
and  bring  his  testimony  into  discredit ;  but  there  is  no  deny- 
ing that  he  is  under  a  great  temptation  even  to  resort  to  this. 
Nay,  it  has  even  been  maintained  by  no  mean  authority,  that 
it  is  part  of  a  pleader's  dut?/  to  have  no  scruples  about  this  or 
any  other  act  whatever  that  may  benefit  his  client.  ^,'  There 
are  many  whom  it  may  be  needful  to  remind,''  says  an  emi- 
nent lawyer,  "that  an  advocate,  by  the  sacred  duty  of  his 
connection  with  his  client,  knows  in  the  discharge  of  that 
office  but  one  person  in  the  world — that  client,  and  none 
other.  To  serve  that  client,  by  all  expedient  means,  to  pro- 
tect that  client  at  all  hazards  and  costs  to  all  others,  (even 
the  party  already  injured,)  and  amongst  others  to  himself,  is 
the  highest  and  most  unquestioned  of  his  duties.  And  he 
must  not  regard  the  alarm,  the  suffering,  the  torment,  the 
destruction,  which  he  may  bring  upon  any  others.  Nay, 
separating  even  the  duties  of  a  patriot  from  those  of  an  advo- 
cate, he  must  go  on,  reckless  of  the  consequences,  if  his  fate 
should  unhappily  be  to  involve  his  country  in  confusion  for 
his  client."     (License  of  Counsel,  p.  3.) 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  recorded  that  "  Sir  Matthew  Hale, 
whenever  he  was  convinced  of  tlfe  injustice  of  any  cause, 
would  engage  no  more  in  it  than  to  explain  to  his  client  the 
grounds  of  that  conviction :  he  abhorred  the  practice  of  mis- 
reciting  evidence,  quoting  precedents  in  books  falsely  or  un- 
fairly, so  as  to  deceive  ignorant  juries  or  inattentive  judges; 
and  he  adhered  to  the  same  scrupulous  sincerity  in  his  plead- 
ings which  he  observed  in  the  other  transactions  of  life.  It 
was  as  great  a  dishonor  as  a  man  was  capable  of,  that  for  a 
little  money  he  was  hired  to  say  otherwise  than  he  thought.'' 
(License  of  Counsel,  p.  4.) 

^'The  advocate,"  says  another  eminent  legal  writer,  "ob- 
serving in  an  honest  witness  a  deponent  whose  testimony 
promises  to  be  adverse,  assumes  terrific  tones  and  deportment, 
and,  pretending  to  find  dishonesty  on  the  part  of  the  witness, 
strives  to  give  his  testimony  the  appearance  of  it.  I  say  a 
hond  fide  witness ;  for  in  the  case  of  a  witness  who  by  an 
adverse  interrogator  is  really  looked  upon  as  dishonest,  this 
is  not  the  proper  course,  nor  is  it  taken  with  him.  For 
bringing  to  light  the  falsehood  of  a  witness  really  believed  to 


PERSUASION.  231 

be  mendacious,  the  more  suitable,  or  rather  the  only  suitable 
course,  is  to  forbear  to  express  the  impression  he  has  inspired. 
Supposing  his  tale  clear  of  suspicion,  the  witness  runs  on  his 
course  with  fluency  till  he  is  entangled  in  some  irretrievable 
contradiction,  at  variance  with  other  parts  of  his  own  story, 
or  with  facts  notorious  in  themselves,  or  established  by  proofs 
from  other  sources."     (License  of  Counsel,  p.  5.) 

"  We  happen  to  be  aware,  from  the  practice  of  persons  of 
the  highest  experience  in  the  examination  of  witnesses,  that 
this  description  is  almost  without  exception  correct,  and  that, 
as  a  general  rule,  it  is  only  the  honest  and  timid  witness  who 
is  confounded  by  imperious  deportment.  The  practice  gives 
preeminence  to  the  unscrupulous  witness  who  can  withstand 
such  assaults.  Sir  Roger  North,  in  his  Life  of  Sir  Dudley 
North,  relates  that  the  law  of  Turkey,  like  our  absurd  law  of 
evidence  in  some  cases,  required  the  testimony  of  two  .wit- 
nesses  in  proof  of  each  fact ;  and  that  a  practice  had  in  con- 
sequence arisen,  and  had  obtained  the  sanction  of  general 
opinion,  of  using  a  false  witness  in  proof  of  those  facts  which 
admitted  of  only  one  witness.  Sir  Dudley  North,  while  in 
Turkey,  had  numerous  disputes,  which  it  became  necessary 
to  settle  by  litigation;  ^and,'  says  his  biographer,  'our  mer- 
chant found,  by  experience,  that  in  a  direct  fact  a  false  wit- 
ness was  a  surer  card  than  a  true  one;  for  if  the  judge  has  a 
mind  to  baffle  a  testimony,  an  honest,  harmless  witness,  that 
doth  not  know  his  play,  cannot  so  well  stand  his  many  cap- 
tious questions  as  a  false  witness  used  to  the  trade  will  do ; 
for  he  hath  been  exercised,  and  is  prepared  for  such  handling, 
ami  can  clear  himself,  when  the  other  will  be  confounded : 
therefore  circumstances  may  be  such  as  to  make  the  false  one 
more  eligible.^'' 

According  to  one,  then,  of  the  writers  I  have  cited,  an 
advocate  is  justified,  and  is  fulfilling  a  duty,  not  only  in  pro- 
testing with  solemnity  his  own  full  conviction  of  the  justice 
of  his  client's  cause,  though  he  may  feel  no  such  conviction. 
— not  only  in  feigning  various  emotions,  (like  an  actor;  ex- 
cept that  the  actor's  credit  consists  in  its  being  Jcnoicn  that 
he  is  only  feigning,)  such  as  pity,  indignation,  moral  appro- 
bation, or  disgust,  or  contempt,  when  he  neither  feels  any 
thing  of  the  kind,  nor  believes  the  case  to  be  one  that  justly 
calls  for  such  feelings — but  he  is  also  occasionally  to  entrap 


232  ELEMENTS   OF  RHETORIC.  [PART   II. 

or  mislead,  to  revile,  insult,  and  calumniate  persons  whom  ho 
may  in  his  heart  believe  to  be  respectable  persons  and  honest 
witnesses.  Another,  on  the  contrary,  observes:  "We  might 
ask  our  learned  friend  and  fellow-Christian,  as  well  as  the 
learned  and  noble  editor  of  ^Paley's  Natural  Theology,'  and 
his  other  fellow-professors  of  the  religion  which  says  that 
*  lying  lips  are  an  abomination  to  the  Lord,'  to  explain  to  us 
how  they  reconcile  the  practice  under  their  rule  with  the 
Christian  precepts,  or  avoid  the  solemn  scriptural  denuncia- 
tion, ^Woe  unto  them  that  call  evil  good,  and  good  evil;  that 
put  darkness  for  light,  and  light  for  darkness ;  that  put  bitter 
for  sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter;  .  .  .  which  justify  the  wicked 
for  reward,  and  take  away  the  righteousness  of  the  righteous 
from  him.' "     (License  of  Counsel,  p.  10.) 

I  have  brought  forward  by  choice  the  opinions  of  legal 
writers  both  for  and  against  the  necessity  and  allowableness 
of  certain  practices ;  leaving  each  person  to  decide  for  him- 
self both  what  is  the  right  course  for  a  pleader  to  pursue,  and 
what  is  the  probable  effect  produced  on  the  mind  by  the 
course  pursued  respectively  by  each.  I  will  add  only  one 
remark,  extracted  from  a  work  of  my  own,  indicative  of  my 
own  judgment  as  to  the  points  touched  on  :* 

"In  oral  examinations  of  witnesses,  a  skilful  cross-examiner 
will  often  elicit  from  a  reluctant  witness  most  important 
truths,  which  the  witness  is  desirous  of  concealing  or  dis- 
guising. There  is  another  kind  of  skill,  which  consists  in  so 
alarming,  misleading,  or  bewildering  an  honest  witness,  as  to 
throw  discredit  on  his  testimony,  or  pervert  the  effect  of  it. 
Of  this  kind  of  art,  which  may  be  characterized  as  the  most, 
or  one  of  the  most,  base  and  depraved  of  all  possible  employ- 
ments of  intellectual  power,  I  shall  only  make  one  further  ob- 
servation, I  am  convinced  that  the  most  effectual  mode  of 
ehciting  truth  is  quite  different  from  that  by  which  an  honest, 
simple-minded  witness  is  most  easily  baffled  and  confused.  I 
have  seen  the  experiment  tried,  of  subjecting  a  witness  to 
such  a  kind  of  cross-examination,  by  a  practiced  lawyer,  as 
would  have  been,  I  am  convinced,  the  most  likely  to  alarm 
and  perplex  many  an  honest  witness,  without  any  effect  in 
shaking  the  testimony ;  and  afterwards,  by  a  totally  opposite 

*  See  above,  Note,  p.  228. 


PERSUASION.  233 

mode  of  examination,  such  as  would  not  have  at  all  perplexed 
one  who  was  honestly  telling  the  truth,  that  same  witness  was 
drawn  on,  step  by  step,  to  acknowledge  the  utter  falsity  of 
the  whole.  Generally  speaking,  I  believe  that  a  quiet,  gentle, 
and  straightforward,  though  full  and  careful,  examination, 
will  be  the  most  adapted  to  elicit  truth ;  and  that  the  man- 
ceu,vres,  and  the  browbeating,  which  are  the  most  adapted  to 
confuse  an  honest  witness,  are  just  what  the  dishonest  one  is 
the  best  prepared  for.  The  more  the  storm  blusters,  the 
more  carefully  he  wraps  round  him  the  cloak,  which  a  warm 
sunshine  will  often  induce  him  to  throw  oif."* 

I  have  thought  it  best,  for  the  reasons  formerly  given,  to 
omit  all  notice  of  the  advantages  to  be  derived  from  each 
class  of  professional  pursuits,  and  to  confine  myself  to  the 
dangers  which  are  to  be  guarded  against,  and  which,  conse- 
quently, require  to  be  carefully  contemplated.  Even  in  re- 
spect of  these,  however,  I  have  been  compelled,  not  only  to 
omit  many  remarks  that  will  perhaps  occur  to  your  own 
minds,  relative  to  each  of  the  professions  I  have  spoken  of, 
but  also  to  leave  several  of  the  most  important  professions 
wholly  unnoticed ',  (the  military,  the  naval,  the  mercantile, 
etc.  j)  not  from  their  not  exercising  as  important  an  influence, 
for  good  or  evil,  on  the  human  mind  as  those  which  I  have 
mentioned,  but  because  I  could  not  trespass  further  on  your 
patience ;  and  also  because  I  conceive  that  any  one,  in  what- 
ever walk  of  life,  whose  attention  is  so  awakened  to  that 
class  of  considerations  which  I  have  laid  before  you,  as  to  be 
put  on  the  watch  for  the  peculiar  effects  on  his  own  character 
likely  to  result  from  his  own  profession,  will  be  induced  to 
follow  up  the  investigation  for  himself,  to  his  own  practical 
benefit. 

•^  Rhetoric,  Part  I.,  chap,  ii.,  §  4.     See  Note,  p.  228. 


234  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 


PART  III. 

OP   STYLE. 


CHAPTEK   I. 

OF   PERSPICUITY. 


§  1. 

Though  tlie  consideration  of  style  has  been  laid  down  as 
style  not  to  holding  a  place  in  a  treatise  on  Rhetoric,  it  would 
be  treated  of  be  neither  necessary  nor  pertinent  to  enter  fully 
genera  y.  into  a  ^ewera^  discussion  of  the  subject;  which 
would  evidently  embrace  much  that  by  no  means  'peculiarly 
belongs  to  our  present  inquiry.  It  is  requisite  for  an  orator, 
e.  g.,  to  observe  the  rules  of  grammar;  but  the  sama  may  be 
said  of  the  poet  and  the  historian,  etc. ;  nor  is  there  any  ^?ecw,- 
liar  kind  of  grammatical  propriety  belonging  to  persuasive  or 
argumentative  compositions ;  so  tliat  it  would  be  a  departure 
from  our  subject  to  treat  at  large,  under  the  head  of  Rhetoric, 
of  such  rules  as  equally  concern  every  other  of  the  purposes 
for  which  language  is  employed. 

Conformably  to  this  view,  I  shall,  under  the  present  head, 
notice  but  slightly  such  principles  of  composition  as  do  not 
exclusively  or  especially  belong  to  the  present  subject:  con- 
fining my  attention  chiefly  to  such  observations  on  style  as 
have  an  especial  reference  to  argumentative  and  persuasive 
works. 

§2. 

It  is  sufficiently  evident  (though  the  maxim  is  often  prac- 


CH.  I.,  §  2.]  STYLE.  235 

tically  disregarded)  that  the  first  requisite  of  style,      persoicuit 
not  only  in  rhetorical  but  in  all  compositions,*  is      a  relative 
perspicuity;  since,  as  Aristotle  observes,  language      ^I'l'^i'^y- 
which  is  not  intelligible,  or  not  clearly  and  readily  intelligible, 
fails,  in  the  same  proportion,  of  the  purpose  for  which  lan- 
guage is  employed.     And  it  is  equally  self-evident   (though 
this  truth  is  still  more  frequently  overlooked)  that  perspicuity 
is  a  relative  quality,  and  consequently  cannot  properly  be 
predicated  of  any  work,  without  a  tacit  reference  to  the  class 
of  readers  or  hearers  for  whom  it  is  designed. 

Nor  is  it  enough  that  the  style  be  such  as  they  are  capable 
of  understanding,  if  they  bestow  their  utmost  attention  :  the 
degree  and  the  kind  of  attention  which  they  have  been  ac- 
customed or  are  likely  to  bestow,  will  be  among  the  circum- 
stances that  are  to  be  taken  into  the  account,  and  provided 
for.  I  say  the  kind,  as  well  as  the  degree,  of  attention,  be- 
cause some  hearers  and  readers  will  be  found  slow  of  appre- 
hension indeed,  but  capable  of  taking  in  what  is  very  copiously 
and  gradually  explained  to  them  ]  while  others,  on  the  con- 
trary, who  are  much  quicker  at  catching  the  sense  of  what  is 
expressed  in  a  short  compass,  are  incapable  of  long  attention, 
and  are  not  only  wearied,  but  absolutely  bewildered,  by  a 
diffused  style. 

When  a  numerous  and  very  mixed  audience  is  to  be  ad- 
dressed, much  skill  will  be  required  in  adapting  the  style, 
(both  in  this  and  in  other  respects,)  and  indeed  the  argu- 
ments also,  and  the  whole  structure  of  the  discourse,  to  the 
various  minds  which  it  is  designed  to  impress;  nor  can  the 
utmost  art  and  diligence  prove,  after  all,  more  than  partially 
successful  in  such  a  case ;  especially  when  the  diversities  are 
so  many  and  so  great  as  exist  in  the  congregations  to  which 
most  sermons  are  addressed,  and  in  the  readers  for  whom 
popular  works  of  an  argumentative,  instructive,  and  hortatory 
character  are  intended.  It  is  possible,  however,  to  approach 
indefinitely  to  an  object  which  cannot  be  completely  attained; 
and  to  adopt  such  a  style,  and  likewise  such  a  mode  of  reason- 
ing, as  shall  be  level  to  the  comprehension  of  the  greater  part, 

*  In  poetry,  perspicuity  is  indeed  far  from  unimportant ;  but  the 
most  perfect  degree  of  it  is  hy  no  means  so  essential  as  in  prose 
•svorks.     See  Part  III.,  chap,  iii.,  §  3. 


236  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

at  least,  even  of  a  promiscuous  audience,  without  being  dis- 
tasteful to  any. 

It  is  obvious,  and  lias  often  been  remarked,  that  extreme 
conciseness  is  ill-suited  to  hearers  or  readers 
woilxit  ^^'^  whose  intellectual  powers  and  cultivation  are  but 
small.  The  usual  expedient,  however,  of  em- 
ploying a  'prolix  style,  by  way  of  accommodation  to  such  minds, 
is  seldom  successful.  Most  of  those  who  could  have  compre- 
hended the  meaning,  if  more  briefly  expressed,  and  many  of 
those  who  could  not  do  so,  are  likely  to  be  bewildered  by  tedious 
expansion  j  and  being  unable  to  maintain  a  steady  attention 
to  what  is  said,  they  forget  part  of  what  they  have  heard,  be- 
fore the  whole  is  completed.  Add  to  which,  that  the  feeble- 
ness produced  by  excessive  dilution,  (if  such  an 
StftSeness!"  expression  may  be  allowed,)  will  occasion  the  at- 
tention to  languish  •  and  what  is  imperfectly  at- 
tended to,  however  clear  in  itself,  will  usually  be  but  imper- 
fectly understood.  Let  not  an  author,  therefore,  satisfy  him- 
self by  finding  that  he  has  expressed  his  meaning  so  that,  if 
attended  to,  he  cannot  fail  to  be  understood;  he  must  con- 
sider also  (as  was  before  remarked)  what  attention  is  likely 
to  be  paid  to  it.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  much  matter  is  ex- 
pressed in  very  few  words  to  an  unreflecting  audience,  or  if, 
on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  wearisome  prolixity,  the  requisite 
attention  may  very  probably  not  be  bestowed. 

It  is  remarked  by  anatomists,  that  the  nutritive  quality  is 
Danger  from  ^^^  ^^^  ^^^^  requisitive  in  food ;  that  a  certain 
excessive  degree  of  distention  of  the  stomach  is  required, 
conciseness.  ^^  enable  it  to  act  with  its  full  powers ;  and  that 
it  is  for  this  reason  hay  or  straw  must  be  given  to  horses,  as 
well  as  corn,  in  order  to  supply  the  necessary  bulk.  Some- 
thing analogous  to  this  takes  place  with  respect  to  the  gene- 
rality of  minds ;  which  are  incapable  of  thoroughly  digesting 
and  assimilating  what  is  presented  to  them,  however  clearly, 
in  a  very  small  compass.  Many  a  one  is  capable  of  deriving 
that  instruction  from  a  moderate-sized  volume,  which  he  could 
not  receive  from  a  very  small  pamphlet,  even  more  perspi- 
cuously written,  and  containing  every  thing  that  is  to  the  pur- 
pose. It  is  necessary  that  the  attention  should  be  detained 
for  a  certain  time  on  the  subject;  and  persons  of  unphilo- 
sophical  mind,  though  they  can  attend  to  what  they  read  or 


CH.  I.,  §  2.]  STYLE.  237 

hear,  are  unapt  to  dwell  upon  it  in  the  way  of  subsequent 
meditation. 

The  best  general  rule  for  avoiding  the  disadvantages  both 
of  conciseness  and  of  prolixity  is  to  employ  repe- 
tition:  to  repeat,  that  is,  the  same  sentiment  and 
argument  in  many  diiferent  forms  of  expression  ;  each,  in 
itself  brief,  but  all,  together,  affording  such  an  expansion  of 
the  sense  to  be  conveyed,  and  so  detaining  the  mind  upon 
it,  as  the  case  may  require.  Cicero  among  the  ancients,  and 
Eurke  among  the  modern  writers,  afford,  perhaps,  the  most 
abundant  practical  exemplifications  of  this  rule.  The  latter 
sometimes  shows  a  deficiency  in  correct  taste,  and  lies  open 
to  Horace's  censure  of  an  author,  ''  Qui  variare  cupit  rem 
prodlgialitcr  iinainf^  but  it  must  be  admitted  that  he  seldom 
fails  to  make  himself  thoroughly  understood,  and  does  not 
often  weary  the  attention,  even  when  he  offends  the  taste,  of 
his  readers. 

Care  must  of  course  be  taken  that  the  repetition  may  not 
be  too  glaringly  apparent;  the  variation  must  not  consist  in 
the  mere  use  of  other,  synonymous,  words  \  but  what  has 
been  expressed  in  appropriate  terms  may  be  repeated  in  meta- 
phorical J  the  antecedent  and  consequent  of  an  argument,  or 
the  parts  of  an  antithesis,  may  be  transposed ;  or  several  dif- 
ferent points  that  have  been  enumerated,  presented  in  a 
varied  order,  etc. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  on  that  obvious  rule  laid  down 
by  "^ Aristotle,  to  avoid  uncommon,  and,  as  they 
are  vulgarly  called,  liavd  words,  i.  e.,  those  which  derived  from 
are  such  to  the  persons  addressed ;  but  it  may  be  fiJfje?sun)d^ 
worth  remarking,  that  to  those  who  wish  to  be  by  the  lower 
understood  by  the  lower  orders  of  the  English,*  classes. 
one  of  the  best  principles  of  selection  is  to  prefer  terms  of 
Saxon  origin,  which  will  generally  be  more  familiar  to  thcni 
than  those  derived  from  the  Latin,  (either  directly  or  through 
the  medium  of  the  French,)  even  when  the  latter  are  more  in 
use  among  persons  of  education. -[•     Our  language  being  (with 


■^  This  does  not  hold  good  in  an  equal  degree  in  Ireland,  where  the 
language  was  introduced  by  the  higher  classes. 

f  A  remarkable  instance  of  this  is,  that  while  the  children  of  the 
higher  classes    almost    always    call    their    parents    "Papa!"   and 


238  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [PART  III. 

very  trifling  exceptions)  made  up  of  these  elements,  it  is  very 
easy  for  any  one,  though  unacquainted  with  Saxon,  to  observe 
this  precept,  if  he  has  but  a  knowledge  of  French  or  of  Latin; 
and  there  is  a  remarkable  scope  for  such  a  choice  as  I  am 
speaking  of,  from  the  multitude  of  synonyms  derived,  respect- 
ively, from  those  two  sources.  The  compilers  of  our  Liturgy 
being  anxious  to  reach  the  understandings  of  all  classes,  at  a 
time  when  our  language  was  in  a  less  settled  state  than  at 
present,  availed  themselves  of  this  circumstance  in  employing 
many  synonymous,  or  nearly  synonymous,  expressions,  most 
of  which  are  of  the  description  just  alluded  to.  Take,  as  an 
instance,  the  exhortation — '^acknowledge"  and  "confess;'' 
"dissemble"  and  "cloke;"  "humble"  and  "lowly;"  "good- 
ness" and  "mercy;"  "assemble"  and  "meet  together."  And 
here  it  may  be  observed,  that  (as  in  this  last  instance)  a  word 
of  French  origin  will  ^cry  often  not  have  a  single  word  of 
Saxon  derivation  corresponding  to  it,  but  may  find  an  exact 
equivalent  in  a  phrase  of  two  or  more  words;  e.  g.,  "con- 
stitute," "go  to  make  up;"  "suffice,"  "be  enough  for;"  "sub- 
stitute," "put  in  the  stead,"  etc.,  etc. 

It  is  worthy  of  notice,  that..^,  style  composed  chiefly  of  the 
words  of  French  origin,  while  it  is  less  intelligible  to  the 
lowest  classes,  is  characteristic  of  those  who  in  cultivation  of 
taste  are  below  the  highest.  As  in  dress,  furniture,  deport- 
ment, etc.,  so  also  in  language,  the  dread  of  vulgarity  con- 
stantly besetting  those  who  are  half-conscious  that  they  are 
in  danger  of  it,  drives  them  into  the  extreme  of  afi'ected 
finery.  So  that  the  precept  which  has  been  given  with  a  view 
to  perspicuity,  may,  to  a  certain  degree,  be  observed  with  an 
advantage  in  point  of  elegance  also. 

In- adapting  the  style  to  the  comprehension  of  the  illiterate,* 
Perspicuit  ^  caution  is  to  be  observed  against  the  ambiguity 
not  incon-'  of  the  word  "plain;"  which  is  opposed  sometimes 
omameu't!^  to  obscuriti/,  and  sometimes  to  ornament.  The 
vulgar  require  a  perspicuous,  but  by  no  means  a 
dry  and  unadorned  style ;  on  the  contrary,  they  have  a  taste 
rather  for  the  over-florid,  tawdry,  and  bombastic :  nor  are  the 

"Mamma!"  the  children  of  the  peasantry  usually  call  them  by  the 
titles  of  "Father!"  and  "Mother!" 

*  See  Elements  of  Logic.     Fallacies,  Book  III.,  ^  5,  p.  178. 


CH.  I.,  §  3.]  STYLE.  239 

ornaments  of  style  by  any  means  necessarily  inconsistent  with 
perspicuity ;  indeed,  metaphor,  which  is  among  the  principal 
of  them,  is,  in  many  cases,  the  clearest  mode  of  expression 
that  can  be  adopted ',  'it  being  usually  much  easier  for  uncul- 
tivated minds  to  comprehend  a  similitude  or  analogy  than  an 
abstract  term.  And  hence  the  language  of  savages,  as  has 
often  been  remarked,  is  highly  metaphorical  j  and.  such  ap- 
pears to  have  been  the  case  with  all  languages  in  their  earlier, 
and  consequently  ruder  and  more  savage  state  ;  all  terms  re- 
lating to  the  mind  and  its  operations  being,  as  appears  from 
the  etymology  of  most  of  them,  originally  metaphorical; 
though  by  long  use  they  have  ceased  to  be  so;  e.g.,  the 
words  "ponder,''  "deliberate,"  "reflect,"  and  many  other 
such,  are  evidently  drawn  by  analogy  from  external  sensible 
bodily  actions. 

§3. 

In  respect  to  the  construction  of  sentences,  it  is  an  obvious 
caution  to  abstain  from  such  as  are  too  long ;  but  construe- 
it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  obscurity  of  tion  of 
many  long  sentences  depends  on  their  length  sentences, 
alone.  A  well-constructed  sentence  of  very  considerable 
length  may  be  more  readily  understood  than  a  shorter  one 
which  is  more  awkwardly  framed.  If  a  sentence  be  so  con- 
structed that  the  meaning  of  each  part  can  be  taken  in  as  we 
proceed,  (though  it  be  evident  that  the  sense  is  not  brought 
to  a  close,)  its  length  will  be  little  or  no  impediment  to  per- 
spicuity ;  but  if  the  former  part  of  the  sentence  convey  no 
distinct  meaning  till  we  arrive  nearly  at  the  end,  (however 
plain  it  may  then  appear,)  it  will  be,  on  the  whole,  deficient 
in  perspicuity ;  for  it  will  need  to  be  read  over,  or  tliouglit 
over,  a  second  time,  in  order  to  be  fully  comprehended;  which 
is  what  few  readers  or  hearers  arc  willing  to  be  burdened 
with.  Take  as  anunstance  such  a  sentence  as  this:  "It  is 
not  without  a  degree  of  patient  attention  and  persevering  dili- 
gence, greater  than  the  generality  are  willing  to  bestow, 
though  not  greater  than  the  object  deserves,  that  the  habit 
can  be  acquired  of  examining  and  judging  of  our  own  con- 
duct with  the  same  accuracy  and  impartiality  as  that  of  an- 
other :"  this  labors  under  the  defect  I  am  speaking  of;  which 
may  be  remedied  by  some  such  alteration  as  the  following : 


240  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

"Tlie  habit  of  examining  our  own  conduct  as  accurately  as 
that  of  another,  and  judging  of  it  with  the  same  impartiality, 
cannot  be  acquired  without  a  degree  of  patient  attention  and 
persevering  diligence,  not  greater  indeed  than  the  object  de- 
serves, but  greater  than  the  generality  are  willing  to  bestow.'' 
The  two  sentences  are  nearly  the  same  in  length,  and  in  the 
words  employed ;  but  the  alteration  of  the  arrangement  allows 
the  latter  to  be  understood  clause  by  clause,  as  it  proceeds.* 
The  caution  just  given  is  the  more  necessary  to  be  insisted 
on,  because  an  author  is  apt  to  be  misled  by  reading  over  a 
sentence  to  himself,  and  being  satisfied  on  finding  it  perfectly 
intelligible  J  forgetting  that  he  himself  has  the  advantage, 
wliich  a  hearer  has  not,  of  knowing  at  the  beginning  of  the 
sentence  what  is  coming  in  the  close.  ^ 

Universally,  indeed,  an  unpracticed  writer  is  liable  to  be 
misled,  by  his  own  knowledge  of  his  own  meaning, 
do  not  imply  into  Supposing  those  expressions  clearly  intel- 
expresslon  hgible  wliicli  are  so  to  himself,  but  which  may 
not  be  so  to  the  reader,  whose  thoughts  are  not 
in  the  same  train.  And  hence  it  is  that  some  do  not  write 
or  speak  with  so  much  perspicuity  on  a  subject  which  has 
long  been  very  familiar  to  them,  as  on  one  which  they  under- 
stand indeed,  but  with  which  they  are  less  intimately  ac- 
quainted, and  in  which  their  knowledge  has  been  more  re- 
cently acquired.  In  the  former  case  it  is  a  matter  of  some 
difficulty  to  keep  in  mind  the  necessity  of  carefully  and 
copiously  explaining  principles  which  by  long  habit  have 
come  to  assume  in  our  minds  the  appearance  of  self-evident 
truths.  Utterly  incorrect,  therefore,  is  Blair's  notion,  that 
obscurity  of  style  necessarily  springs  from  indistinctness  of 
conception.  A  little  conversation  on  nautical  affairs  with 
sailors,  or  on  agriculture  with  farmers,  would  soon  have  un- 
deceived him. 

^  Care  must  be  taken,  however,  in  applying  this  precept,  not  to  let 
the  beginning  of  a  sentence  so  forestall  what  follows  as  to  render  it 
apparently  feeble  and  impertinent:  e.  g.,  "Solomon,  one  of  the  most 

celebrated  of  men  for  wisdom  and  pi-osperity." "Why,  Avho 

needs"  (the  hearer  will  be  apt  to  say  to  himself)  "to  be  told  that?" 
And  yet  it  may  be  important  to  the  purpose  in  hand  to  fix  the  atten- 
tion on  these  circumstances:  let  the  description  come  before  the  name, 
and  the  sentence,  while  it  remains  equally  perspicuous,  will  be  free 
from  the  fault  complained  of. 


CH.  I.,  §  1.]  STYLE.  241 

§4. 

The  foregoing  rules  have  all,  it  is  evident,  proceeded  on  the 
supposition  that  it  is  the  writer's  intention  to  be  Perspicuity 
understood ;  and  this  cannot  but  be  the  case  in  not  always 
every  legitimate  exercise  of  the  rhetorical  art; 
and,  generally  speaking,  even  where  the  design  is  sophistical. 
For,  as  Dr.  Campbell  has  justly  remarked,  the  sophist  may 
employ  for  his  purpose  what  are  in  themselves  real  and  valid 
arguments;  since  probabilities  may  lie  on  opposite  sides, 
though  truth  can  be  but  on  one ;  his  fallacious  artifice  con- 
sisting only  in  keeping  out  of  sight  the  stronger  probabilities 
which  may  be  urged  against  him,  and  in  attributing  an  undue 
weight  to  those  which  he  has  to  allege.  Or,  again,  he  may, 
cither  directly  or  indirectly,  assume  as  self-evident  a  premiss 
which  there  is  no  sufficient  ground  for  admitting ;  or  he  may 
draw  off  the  attention  of  the  hearers  to  the  proof  of  some  ir- 
relevant point,  etc.,  according  to  the  various  modes  described 
in  the  treatise  on  Fallacies  ;*  but  in  all  this  there  is  no 
call  for  any  departure  from  perspicuity  of  style,  properly  so 
called;  not  even  when  he  avails  himself  of  an  ambiguous 
term.  "For  though,''  as  Dr.  Campbell  says,  "a  sophism  can 
be  mistaken  for  an  argument  only  where  it  is  not  rightly 
understood,''  it  is  the  aim  of  him  who  employs  it,  rather  that 
the  matter  should  be  misunderstood  than  not  understood — 
that  his  language  should  be  deceitful,  rather  than  obscure  or 
unintelligible.  The  hearer  must  not  indeed  form  a  correct^ 
but  he  must  form  some,  and  if  possible  a  distinct)  though 
erroneous,  idea  of  the  arguments  employed,  in  order  to  be 
misled  by  them.  The  ob'scurity,  in  short,  if  it  is  to  be  so 
called,  must  not  be,  strictly  speaking,  obscurity  of  sti/le ;  it 
must  be,  not  like  a  mist  which  dims  the  appearance  of  things, 
but  like  a  colored  glass  which  disguises  them. 

The  nearest  approach  perhaps  to  obscurity  of  style  that  can 
serve  a  sophistical  purpose,  is  when  something  is        sophistry 
said  which  would  be  at  once  rejected  if  under-        yoiicd  by 
stood  fully,  and  in  the  established  sense  of  the        JJ^Vs''. ' 
words ;  those  words,  however,  being  capable  of 
dimly  suggesting  some  different  sense  or  senses,  in  which  the 

*  Logic,  B.  III. 


242  ELEMENTS   Or  RHETORIC.  [PART  III. 

assertion  would  be  true,  though  irrelevant  or  nugatory. 
When  an  assertion  has  thus  passed  unchallenged,  from  being 
imperfectly  understood,  it  may  be  assumed  afterwards  in  its 
proper  sense,  and  in  one  which  is  to  the  purpose,  but  which 
would  have  been  rejected  if  plainly  stated  in  the  outset. 

To  take  one  example  out  of  many  that  could  be  found : 
"Though  religious  liberty,^'  I  have  heard  it  said,  "ought  to 
be  enjoyed  by  all,  we  should  remember  that  religious  liberty 
does  not  imply  irreligious  liberty :"  this  proposition  is  one 
which  I  have  known  intelligent  and  well-principled  men  led 
to  assent  to;  and  which,  I  have  no  doubt,  would  in  many 
circles  be  received  with  hearty  acquiescence  and  applause. 
Yet,  according  to  the  established  usage  of  language,  it  is 
utterly  untrue,  and  self-contradictory.  When  we  speak  of  a. 
man's  being  at  "liberty"  to  act  in  a  certain  way,  we  always 
understand  that  he  is  at  liberty  to  act  differently;  that  it  de- 
pends  on  liimself  to  do,  or  not  to  do,  so  and  so.  It  would  be 
thought  absurd  to  speak  of  a  dean  and  chapter  being  "at 
liberty"  to  elect  a  certain  individual,  but  not  at  liberty  to  re- 
fuse him ;  or  to  say  of  a  man  imprisoned,  that  he  has  liberty 
to  remain  in  jail,  though  not  liberty  to  leave  it.*  And  any 
one  would  say  that  the  freedom  of  parliament  was  at  an  end, 
if  they  were  authorized  to  pass  any  bill  the  ministry  might 
propose,  but  not  to  reject  it. 

According  to  the  usual  and  proper  sense  of  the  words, 
therefore,  it  is  plain  that  religious  liberty  does  imply  irre- 
ligious liberty ;  and  liberty  to  do  right,  liberty  to  do  wrong. 
How  then  are  men  brought  to  assent  to  that  which,  if  plainly 
understood,  according  to  their  own  habitual  use  of  language, 
they  would  instantly  perceive  to  be  a  contradiction  ?  Doubt- 
less, by  an  indistinct  apprehension  of  it.  For  there  are  other 
senses,  which,  though  not  such  as  the  expression  can  pro- 
perly bear,  may  yet  be  faintly  suggested  by  it,  and  in  which 
the  assertion  would  be  an  undeniable  and  nugatory  truism. 
E.  g. :  Liberty,  in  the  sense  of  absence  of  external  coercion, 
does  not  imply  liberty  from  conscieniious  obligation.  One 
who  is  at  liberty,  in  any  case,  to  act  rightly,  and  of  course, 
also,  to  act  wrongly — i.  e.,  left  free  to  choose  between  good 
and  evil — is  not  at  liberty,  in  point  of  duty,  to  choose  the  evil. 

*  See  Essay,  "On  the  Kingdom  of  Christ,"  Note  A, 


CH.  I.,  §  4.]  STYLE.  243 

And  as  there  is,  mm-ally,  no  "liberty"  to  do  wrong  so  neither 
^  there,  in  (/««  sense,  liberty  to  do  nght._  We  do  not  say 
hat  a  man  is  "at  liberty"  to  obey  the  Divme  laws,  but  that 
he  is  "bound"  to  obey  them.  In  every  instance  and  in  eyeiy 
sense  in  which  a  man  is  "at  liberty"  to  act  jn  one  way,  it  is 
implied  that  he  is  at  liberty  to  act  in  another  way. 

To  sav  then  that  freedom  from  external  compulsion  does 
not  leave  one  free  from  moral  obligation,  is  not  only  true,  but 
self-evident,  and  needless  to  be  stated. 

A^ain"  a  certain  degree  of  liberty  as  to  any  matter,  does 
not  imply  complete  liberty  therein.     A  man  has  a  certain  de- 
cree 7  religious  liberty -who  is  compelled  indeed  to  profess 
?«mc  reli-iou,  but  left  free  to  choose  «'/m< ;  and,  again   he 
has  son^r  though  a  less  degree,  if  he  is  compelled  to  profess 
Chr  sSity,  bSt  left  free  8.  choose  tlje  Ch'-^-"  ,f  "7>-- 
tion  he  may  prefer ;  or  yet,  again,  if  he  be  compelled  to  con- 
form to  a  certain  Church,  but  allowed  to  choose  '"«  "^n  «»"- 
fcssor  or  preacher.     So,  also,  a  man  in  prison  may  be  allowed 
LTs  choic^  of  rooms;  but  in  that  case  (and  J^'- the  same  with 
the  other  analogous  ones)  we  should  say,  not  that  he  is     at 
berty"  to  remain  in  the  prison,  which  he  is  not  allowed  to 
quit,  but  that  he  is  "at  liberty"  to  inhabit  such  and  such  a 
?oom  in  it;  inasmuch  as  he  is  allowed  to  occupy  another  ,n- 

"n'ow  the  two  propositions  which  I  have  supposed  may  be 
su--ested  to  the  mind  by  the  expression  in  question  are  both 
of  Uim  mere  truisms,  not  worth  being  stated  That  freedom 
torn  external  eoereion  in  religious  matters  doesnot  render 
them  moratli/  indifferent;  and,  again,  that  a  certain  degree  of 
iberty  does  not  imply  full  liberty-each  of  these  is  an  a  e  - 
tion  whieh,  if  plainly  made,  would  be  perceived  to  be  nuga- 
torv  Yet  it  is  doubtless  some  indistinct  idea  of  one  or  both 
of  tiiese,  floating,  as  it  were,  in  the  mind  that  leads  men  to 
acciuicsce  in  and' applaud  an  assertion  which,  '"  *e  pioper 
sense  of  the  words,  they  would  perceive  on  reflection  to  be 

''' Nuterous  similar  instances  might  be  found  of  ff  acies  th«^ 
veiled  by  indistinctness  of  language  m  most  of  the  treatises 
extant  on  "fatalism,"  "free  agency,"  and  other  kindred 
matters ;  in  which  the  words  "may,"  "  can,"  "possible,    etc., 


244  ELEMENTS   OF  RHETORIC.  [PART  III. 

are  understood  partly  in  reference  to  power,  partly  to  proha- 
hility.^ 

In  these,  however,  and  in  all  other  cases  where  indistinct- 
ness of  language  serves  to  veil  sophistry  from  a  man's  hearers, 
or — which  is  quite  as  common — from  himself,  the  expressions 
must  always  appear  intelligible,  and  we  must  follow,  or  im- 
agine we  follow  the  meaning,  as  we  proceed. 

There  are,  however,  certain  spurious  kinds,  as  they  may  be 
called,  of  writing  or  speaking,  (distinct  from  what 
oratoiy!^  i^  Strictly  termed  sophistry,)  in  which  obscurity 

of  style  may  be  apposite.  The  object  which  has 
all  along  been  supposed,  is  that  of  convincing  or  persuading  ; 
but  there  are  some  kinds  of  oratory,  if  they  are  to  be  so  named, 
in  which  some  different  end  is  proposed. 

One  of  these  ends  is,  (when  the  cause  is  such  that  it  can- 
,  .  ,  not  be  sufficiently  supported  even  by  specious 
urge  some-  fallacies,)  to  appear  to  say  something,  when  there 
thing.  -g  -j^  £g^^|.  nothing  to  be  said ;  so  as  at  least  to 

avoid  the  ignominy  of  being  silenced.  To  this  end,  the  more 
confused  and  unintelligible  the  language,  the  better,  provided 
it  carry  with  it  the  appearance  of  profound  wisdom,  and  of 
being  something  to  the  purpose. 

"Now  though  nothing  (says  Dr.  Campbell)  would  seem  to 
be  easier  than  this  kind  of  style,  where  an  author  falls  into  it 
naturally — that  is,  when  he  deceives  himself  as  well  as  his 
reader — nothing  is  more  difficult  when  attempted  of  design. 
It  is  besides  requisite,  if  this  manner  must  be  continued  for 
any  time,  that  it  be  artfully  blended  with  some  glimpses  of 
meaning ;  else,  to  persons  of  discernment,  the  charm  will  at 
length  be  dissolved,  and  the  nothingness  of  what  has  been 
spoken  will  be  detected ;  nay,  even  the  attention  of  the  un- 
suspecting multitude,  when  not  relieved  by  any  thing  that 
is  level  to  their  comprehension,  will  infallibly  flag.  The  In- 
vocation in  the  Dunciad  admirably  suits  the  orator  who  is 
unhappily  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  taking  shelter  in  the 
unintelligible : 

Of  darkness  visible  so  much  he  lent, 

As  half  to  show,  half  veil  the  deep  intent." 

(Chap.  VIII.,  Sec.  1,  p.  119.) 

*  See  Appendix  to  Logic,  articles  "May,"  "Necessary,"  etc. 


CH.  I.,  §  5.]  STYLE.  245 

This  artifice  is  distinguished  from  sophistry,  properly  so 
called,  (with  which  Dr.  Campbell  seems  to  confound  it,)  by 
the  circumstance  that  its  tendency  is  not,  as  in  sophistry,  to 
convince,  but  to  have  the  appearance  of  argument,  when  in 
fact  nothing  is  urged.  For  in  order  for  men  to  be  convinced, 
on  however  insufiicient  grounds,  they  must  (as  was  remarked 
above)  understand  something  from  what  is  said,  though,  if  it 
be  fallacious,  they  must  not  understand  it  riglithj ;  but  if  this 
cannot  be  accomplished,  the  sophist's  next  resort  is  the  un- 
intelligible ;  which  indeed  is  very  often  intermixed  with  the 
sophistical,  when  the  latter  is  of  itself  too  scanty  or  too  weak. 
Nor  does  the  adoption  of  this  style  serve  merely  to  save  his 
credit  as  an  orator  or  author ;  it  frequently  does  more :  igno- 
rant and  unreflecting  persons,  though  they  cannot  be,  strictly 
speaking,  convinced,  by  what  they  do  not  understand,  yet 
will  very  often  suppose,  each,  that  the  rest  understand  it;  and 
each  is  ashamed  to  acknowledge,  even  to  himself,  his  own 
darkness  and  perplexity  :  so  that,  if  the  speaker  with  a  con- 
fident air  announces  his  conclusion  as  established,  they  will 
often,  according  to  the  maxim  "Om?ie  ignotum  ^;?'o  mag- 
nificoy^  take  for  granted  that  he  has  advanced  valid  argu- 
ments, and  will  be  loath  to  seem  behindhand  in  compre- 
hending them.  It  usually  requires  that  a  man  should  have 
some  confidence  in  his  own  understanding,  to  venture  to  say, 
"What  has  been  spoken  is  unintelligible  to  me.'' 

Another  purpose  sometimes  answered  by  a  discourse  of  this 
kind  is,  that  it  serves  to  furnish  an  excuse,  flimsy 
indeed,  but  not  unfrequently  sufficient,  for  men    pretext  for 
to  vote  or  act  according  to  their  own  inclinations;    is^^i"fn'''d^^^ 
which  they  would  perhaps  have  been  ashamed  to 
do,  if  strong  arguments  had  been  urged  on  the  other  side, 
and  had  remained  confessedly/  unanswered ;  but  they  satisfy 
themselves,  if  something  has  been  said  in  favor  of  the  course. 
they  with  to  adopt,   though  that   something   be   only  fair- 
sounding  sentences  that  convey  no  distinct  meaning.     They 
are  content  that  an  answei"  has  been  made,  without  troubling 
themselves  to  consider  what  it  is. 

Another  end,  which  in  speaking  is  sometimes  proposed, 


246  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

and  wliicli  is,  if  possible,  still  more  remote  from 
2^^Py^°S       the  legitimate  province  of  Rhetoric,  is  to  occupy 

time.  When  an  unfavorable  decision  is  appre- 
hended, and  the  protraction  of  the  debate  may  afford  time  for 
fresh  voters  to  be  summoned,  or  may  lead  to  an  adjournment, 
which  will  afford  scope  for  some  other  manoeuvre ;  when  there 
is  a  chance  of  so  wearying  out  the  attention  of  the  hearers, 
that  they  will  listen  with  languor  and  impatience  to  what  shall 
be  urged  on  the  other  side ;  when  an  advocate  is  called  upon 
to  plead  a  cause  in  the  absence  of  those  whose  opinion  it  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  influence,  and  wishes  to  reserve  all 
his  arguments  till  they  arrive,  but  till  then  must  apparently 
proceed  in  his  pleading ;  in  these  and  many  similar  cases, 
which  it  is  needless  to  particularize,*  it  is  a  valuable  talent 
to  be  able  to  pour  forth  with  fluency  an  unlimited  quantity 
of  well-sounding  language  which  has  little  or  no  meaning, 
yet  which  shall  not  strike  the  hearers  as  unintelligible  or  non- 
sensical, though  it  convey  to  their  minds  no  distinct  idea. 

Perspicuity  of  style — real,  not  apparent  perspicuity — is  in 
this  case  never  necessary,  and  sometimes  studiously  avoided. 
If  any  distinct  meaning  were  conveyed,  then,  if  that  which 
was  said  were  irrelevant,  it  would  be  perceived  to  be  so,  and 
would  produce  impatience  in  the  hearers,  or  afford  an  ad- 
vantage to  the  opponents;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the  speech 
were  relevant,  and  there  were  no  arguments  of  any  force  to 
be  urged,  except  such  as  either  had  been  already  dwelt  on, 
or  were  required  to  be  reserved  (as  in  the  case  last  alluded 
to)  for  a  fuller  audience,  the  speaker  would  not  further  his 
cause  by  bringing  them  forward.  So  that  the  usual  resource 
on  these  occasions,  of  such  orators  as  thoroughly  understand 
the  tricks  of  their  art,  and  do  not  disdain  to  employ  them,  is 
to  amuse  their  audience  with  specious  emptiness. 

It  is  most  unfortunate  that  in  sermons  there  should  be  so 
much  temptation  to  fall  into  the  first  two  (to  say  nothing  of 
the  third)  of  these  kinds  of  spurious  oratory.  When  it  is 
appointed  that  a  sermon  shall  be  preached,  and  custom  re- 
quires that  it  shall  be  of  a  certain  length,  there  cannot  but 

■^  I  have  heard  an  anecdote  of  an  advocate  who  occupied  the  court 
with  his  '■^ chronotrqjtic'^  oratory  (as  it  might  be  styled)  for  six  hours, 
while  a  messenger  was  dispatched  for  an  important  document  which 
had  been  accidentally  left  behind  at  a  town  twenty-five  miles  off. 


CH.  I.,  §  6.]  STYLE.  247 

be  more  danger  that  the  preacher  should  chiefly  consider 
himself  as  bound  to  say  something ^  and  to  occupy  the  time 
prescribed,  without  keeping  in  mind  the  object  of  leaving  his 
hearers  the  wiser  or  the  better,  than  if  he  were  to  preach 
solely  in  consequence  of  his  having  such  a  specific  object 
to  accomplish.* 

^      §6. 

Another  kind  of  spurious  oratory,  and  the  last  that  will  be 
noticed,  is  that  which  has  for  its  object  to  gain 
the   hearer's   admiration  of  the  eloquence  dis-       i)ifpiiy  of 

1         1        mi  •        •     1       T  •  n     1  eloquence. 

played.     This,   indeed,   constitutes   one    oi   the 
three   kinds   of  oratory  enumerated   by  Aristotle,f  and   is 
regularly  treated  of  by  him,  along  with  the  deliberative  and 
judicial  branches;  though  it  hardly  deserves  the  place  he 
has  bestowed  on  it. 

When  this  is  the  end  pursued,  perspicuity  is  not  indeed  to 
be  avoided,  but  it  may  often  without  detriment  be  disre- 
garded.J  Men  frequently  admire  as  eloquent,  and  sometimes 
admire  the  most,  what  they  do  not  at  all,  or  do  not  fully  com- 
prehend, if  elevated  and  high-sounding  words  be  arranged  in 
graceful  and  sonorous  periods.  Those  of  uncultivated  or  ill- 
cultivated  minds,  especially,  are  apt  to  think  meanly  of  any 
thing  that  is  brought  down  perfectly  to  the  low  level  of  their 
capacity ;  though  to  do  this  with  respect  to  valuable  truths 
which  are  not  trite,  is  one  of  the  most  admirable  feats  of 
genius.  They  admire  the  profundity  of  one  who  is  mystical 
and  obscure ;  mistaking  the  muddiness  of  the  water  for  depth, 
and  magnifying  in  their  imaginations  what  is  viewed  through 
a  fog ;  and  they  conclude  that  brilliant  language  must  repre- 
sent some  brilliant  ideas,  without  troubling  themselves  to  in- 
quire what  those  ideas  are. 

Many  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  a  "fine  discourse,'^  or  a 
piece  of  "fine  writing,"  would  be  found  on  examination  to 

*  See  Part  III.,  chap,  iii,,  §  2. 

f  For  he  says  that  in  each  of  the  two  other  kinds,  the  hearer  is  a 
"judge" — in  the  first  of  the  "expedient,"  in  the  other  of  the  "just;" 
Ibut  in  the  third  kind  he  is  only  Oeupoc,  literally  a  spectator ;  and  is 
a  judge  merely  (n'/g  6vvujjieug)  of  the  ability  of  the  orator. 

X  Sec  Appendix,  [L.] 


248  ELEMENTS  OP  RHETORIC.       [PART  III. 

retain  only  a  few  sonorous  but  empty  phrases ;  and  not  only 
to  have  no  notion  of  the  general  drift  of  the  argument,  but 
not  even  to  have  ever  considered  whether  the  author  had  any 
such  drift  or  not. 

It  is  not  meant  to  be  insinuated  that  in  every  such  case 
the  composition  is  in  itself  unmeaning,  or  that  the  author 
had  no  other  object  than  the  credit  of  eloquence;  he  may 
have  had  a  higher  end  in  view ;  and  he  may  have  expressed 
himself  very  clearly  to  some  hearers,  though  not  to  all ',  but 
it  is  most  important  to  be  fully  aware  of  the  fact,  that  it  is 
possible  to  obtain  the  highest  applause  from  those  who  not 
only  receive  no  edification  from  what  they  hear,  but  abso- 
lutely do  not  understand  it.  So  far  is  popularity  from  being 
a  safe  criterion  of  the  usefulness  of  a  preacher. 

It  should  be  added  that  it  is  (as  has  indeed  been  already 

^  hinted)  not  for  eloquence  alone  that  a  man  will 

of  style  sometimes  obtain  credit  by  means  of  an  imposing 

wSnaiit/*^^     and  mystical  obscurity  of  language.    That  pomp- 

jind  depth  of    ous  kind  of  half- German  dialect,  for  instance, 

°    ■  which   has  of  late  years   been   particularly   in 

fashion,  and  some  other  such,  have  sometimes  succeeded  in 
raising  the  admiration  even  of  those  who  condemn  the  affecta- 
tion and  obscurity  of  the  style,  but  who  consider  the  thoughts 
conveyed  as  something  very  profound  and  original.  For 
many  persons,  especially  those  of  a  somewhat  enthusiastic 
temperament,  (the  Sclmodrmerei  of  the  Germans,)  and  a 
certain  craving  after  the  sublime,  and  who  at  the  same  time 
are  deficient  in  the  habit  of  close  and  patient  thinking,  are 
apt,  when  any  thing  is  made  very  clear  to  them,  to  fancy 
that  they  knew  it  before,  and  to  underrate  an  author  who  en- 
lightens them  without  any  dazzling  flashes,  as  a  second-rate 
or  third-rate  person,  destitute  of  genius ;  while  they  admire 
the  supposed  wisdom  which  is  partially  veiled  by  a  kind  of 
dazzling  haze.  And  yet  perhaps  these  admirers,  if  called  on 
themselves  to  explain  in  their  own  words  the  meaning  of  what 
has  been  said,  would  find  that  much  of  it  is  unsound  and 
worthless,  and  that  most  of  the  remainder  is  what  has  been 
often  said  before — and  much  better  said — in  plain  English ; 
and  that  a  style  not  wholly  unintelligible,  yet  not  readily  and 
fully  intelligible,  has  deceived  them  as  to  the  real  value  of 


CH.  II.,  §  1.]  STYLE.  249 

the  matter.*  They  would  find,  like  the  antiquarian  in 
''  Martinus  Scriblerus/'  that  the  supposed  curious  old  shield 
turned  out,  when  its  rust  was  scoured  off,  to  be  no  more  than 
a  pot-lid. 


CHAPTER   II. 

OF  ENERGY. 


§1- 

The  next  quality  of  style  to  be  noticed  is  what  may  be 
called  energy ;  the  term  being  used  in  a  wider  sense  than  the 
'Evepyeta  of  Aristotle,  and  nearly  corresponding  with  what 
Dr.  Campbell  calls  vivacity ;  so  as  to  comprehend  every  thing 
that  may  conduce  to  stimulate  attention — to  impress  strongly 
on  the  mind  the  arguments  adduced — to  excite  the  imagina- 
tion, and  to  arouse  the  feelings. 

This  energy,  then,  or  vivacity  of  style,  must  depend  (as  is 
likewise  the  case  in  respect  of  perspicuity)  on  three  things : 
1st,  the  choice  of  words;  2d,  their  number;  aiid  3d,  their 
arrangement. 

With  respect  to  the  choice  of  words,  it  will  be  most  con- 
venient to  consider  them  under  those  two  classes 
which  Aristotle  has  described  under  the  titles  of      words  with 
Kuria  and  Xena,  for  which  our  lan^uasre  does       ^  ^i®^^  *^ 
not  afford  precisely  corresponding  names  :  "  pro- 
per,'' *'  appropriate,"  or  ^'  ordinary"  terms  will  the  most  nearly 
designate  the  former ;  the  latter  class  (literally  the  "  strange") 

■5^  "These  matters  are  treated  of  in  solemn  and  imposing  language, 
of  that  peculiar  kind  of  dazzling  mistiness  whose  effect  is  to  convey, 
at  first,  to  ordinary  readers,  a  striking  impression,  with  an  appear- 
ance of  being  perfectly  intelligible  at  the  first  glance,  but  to  become 
more  obscure  and  doubtful  at  the  second  glance,  and  more  and  more 
so,  the  more  attentively  it  is  studied  by  a  reader  of  clear  under- 
standing; so  as  to  leave  him  utterly  in  doubt,  at  the  last,  which  of 
several  meanings  it  is  meant  to  convey,  or  whether  any  at  all." — 
Essay  II.,  On  the  Kingdom  of  Christ,  ^  38,  p.  273. 


250  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

including  all  others — all  that  are  in  any  way  removed  from 
common  use — whether  uncommon  terms,  or  ordinary  terms 
transferred  to  a  different  meaning  from  that  which  strictly 
belongs  to  them,  or  employed  in  a  different  manner  from  that 
of  common  discourse.  All  the  tropes  and  figures  enumer- 
ated by  grammatical  and  rhetorical  writers,  will  of  course 
fall  under  this  head. 

With  respect  then  to  "proper"  terms,  the  principal  rule 
Caution  ^^^  guiding  our  choice  with  a  view  to  energy,  is 

against  gen-  to  prefer,  ever,  those  words  which  are  the  least 
erai  terms.  abstract  and  general.  Individuals  alone  having 
a  real  existence,*  the  terms  denoting  them  (called  by  logi- 
cians "  singular  terms")  will  of  course  make  the  most  vivid 
impression  on  the  mind,  and  exercise  most  the  power  of  con- 
ception ;  and  the  less  remote  any  term  is  from  these,  i.  e., 
the  more  specific  or  individual^  the  more  energy  it  will  pos- 
sess, in  comparison  of  such  as  are  more  general.  The  im- 
pression produced  on  the  mind  by  a  "  singular  term"  may  be 
compared  to  the  distinct  view  taken  in  by  the  eye  of  any  ob- 
ject (suppose  some  particular  man)  near  at  hand,  in  a  clear 
light,  which  enables  us  to  distinguish  the  features  of  the  in- 
dividual i  in  a  fainter  light,  or  rather  farther  off,  we  merely 
perceive  that  the  object  is  a  man;  this  corresponds  with  the 
idea  conveyed  by  the  name  of  the  species ;  yet  farther  off,  or 
in  a  still  feebler  light,  we  can  distinguish  merely  some  living 
object ;  and,  at  length,  merely  some  object ;  these  views  cor- 
responding, respectively  with  the  terms  denoting  the  genera, 
less  or  more  remote.  And  as  each  of  these  views  conveys,  as 
far  as  it  goes,  an  equally  correct  impression  to  the  mind,  (for 

*  Thence  called  by  Aristotle  [Categ.,  sec.  3)  "primary  substances," 
(^/rrpurat  ovaiai,)  genus  and  species  being  denominated  "secondary," 
as  not  properly  denoting  a  "really  existing  thing,"  (rode  ri,)  but 
rather  an  attribute.  He  has,  indeed,  been  considered  as  the  great 
advocate  of  the  opposite  doctrine;  i.  e.,  the  system  of  "Realism;" 
which  was  certainly  embraced  by  many  of  his  professed  followers ; 
but  his  own  language  is  sufficiently  explicit:  Udaa  6'i:  ovaia  doKel 
ToSs  ri  crjfxaivetv.  'Ett^  filv  ovv  tQv  rrpuTuv  ovaiCtv  uvafKpcGjSriTjjrov  koI 
u2.7]deg  EGTLv,  on  rode  tl  cri[xatveL  arojiov  yctp,  koI  ev  dpid/xo)  to  drjTiov/ie- 
vov  kariv.  'Ett^  61  rcov  devrf.puv  ovatcJv  $AINETAI  /n^v  ojuoUog  toj 
axvf-o,rL  TT/c  ■Kpoarjyopla^  r6()e  tl  ajj/xaivecv,  oTav  eItzti,  uvOpuTTog,  tj  ^coov. 
OT  MHN  FE  AAH0E2'  u/l/ia  [lakXov  rcolov  tl  ayfj,aivec.  k.  r.  A. — 
Aristotle,  Categ.,  ^  3.     See  Logic,  Dissert.,  Ch.  V. 


CH.  II.,  §  1.]  STYLE.  251 

we  are  equally  certain  that  the  object  at  a  distance  is  some- 
thing, as  that  the  one  close  to  us  is  such  and  such  an  indi- 
vidual,) though  each,  successively,  is  less  vivid ;  so,  in  lan- 
guage, a  generic  term  may  be  as  clearly  understood  as  a 
specific  or  a  singular  term,  but  will  convey  a  much  less  forci- 
Ue  impression  to  the  hearer's  mind.  "  The  more  general 
the  terms  are/'  (as  Dr.  Campbell  justly  remarks,)  "the  pic- 
ture is  the  fainter ;  the  more  special  they  are,  the  brighter. 
The  same  sentiment  may  be  expressed  with  equal  justness, 
and  even  equal  perspicuity,  in  the  former  way  as  in  the 
latter ;  but  as  the  coloring  will  in  that  case  be  more  languid, 
it  cannot  give?  equal  pleasure  to  the  fancy,  and  by  conse- 
quence will  not  contribute  so  much  either  to  fix  the  attention 
or  to  impress  the  memory." 

It  might  be  supposed,  at  first  sight,  that  an  author  has 
little  or  no  choice  on  this  point,  but  must  em-      _,   . 

-  1  T  Choice 

ploy  either  more  or  less  general  terms  accordmg  allowed 
to  the  objects  he  is  speaking  of  There  is,  how-  generfe"and 
ever,  in  almost  every  case,  great  room  for  such  a  specific 
choice  as  we  are  speaking  of  j  for,  in  the  first 
place,  it  depends  on  our  choice  whether  or  not  we  will  em- 
ploy terms  more  general  than  the  subject  requires;  which 
may  almost  always  be  done  consistently  with  truth  and  pro- 
priety, though  not  with  energy.  If  it  be  true  that  a  man 
has  committed  7nurder,  it  may  be  correctly  asserted  that  he 
has  committed  a  crime:  if  the  Jews  were  "exterminated" 
and  "Jerusalem  demolished"  by  "Vespasian's  army,"  it  may 
be  said,  with  truth,  that  they  were  "subdued"  by  "an 
enemy,"  and  their  "  capital"  taken.  This  substitution,  then, 
of  the  general  for  the  specific,  or  of  the  specific  for  the  sin- 
gular, is  always  within  our  reach ;  and  many,  especially  un- 
practiced  writers,  fall  into  a  feeble  style  by  resorting  to  it 
unnecessarily;  either  because  they  imagine  there  is  more 
appearance  of  refinement  or  of  profundity  in  the  employ- 
ment of  such  terms  as  are  in  less  common  use  among  the 
vulgar,  or,  in  some  cases,  with  a  view  to  give  greater  com- 
prehensiveness to  their  reasonings,  and  to  increase  the  utility 
of  what  they  say,  by  enlarging  the  field  of  its  application. 
Inexperienced  preachers  frequently  err  in  this  way,  by  dwell- 
ing on  virtue  and  vice,  piety  and  irreligion,  in  the  abstract, 


252  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   in. 

without  particularizing;  forgetting  that  while  they  include 
much,  they  imjorcss  little  or  nothing. 

The  only  appropriate  occasion  for  this  generic  language  is 
when  we  wish  to  avoid  giving  a  vivid  impression — when  our 
object  is  to  soften  what  is  offensive,  disgusting,  or  shocking ; 
as  when  we  speak  of  an  "  execution,''  for  the  infliction  of  the 
sentence  of  death  on  a  criminal :  of  which  kind  of  expres- 
sions, common  discourse  furnishes  numberless  instances.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  Antony's  speech  over  Coesar's  body,  his 
object  being  to  excite  horror,  Shakspeare  puts  into  his  mouth 
the  -mo^i  particular  expressions  :  "  Those  honorable  men  (not, 
who  killed  Caesar,  but)  whose  daggers  have  stubbed  Caesar." 

§2. 

But  in  the  second  place,  not  only  does  a  regard  for  energy 
require  that  we  should  not  use  terms  more  gen- 
eral than  are  exactly  adequate  to  the  objects 
spoken  of,  but  we  are  also  allowed,  in  many  cases,  to  employ 
less  general  terms  than  are  exactly  appropriate.  In  this  case 
we  are  employing  words  not  ^^appropriate,"  but  belonging  to 
the  second  of  the  two  classes  just  mentioned.  The  use  of 
this  trope*  (enumerated  by  Aristotle  among  the  metaphors, 
but  since  more  commonly  called  synecdoche)  is  very  frequent ', 
as  it  conduces  much  to  the  energy  of  the  expression,  without 
occasioning,  in  general,  any  risk  of  its  meaning  being  mis- 
taken. The  passage  cited  by  Dr.  Campbell,"}"  from  one  of 
our  Lord's  discourses,  (which  are  in  general  of  this  charac- 
ter,) together  with  the  remarks  made  upon  it,  will  serve  to 
illustrate  what  has  been  just  said :  ^' '  Consider,'  says  our 
Lord,  '  the  lilies,  how  they  grow :  they  toil  not,  they  spin 
not;  and  yet  I  say  unto  you,  that  Solomon,  in  all  his  glory, 
was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these.  If  then  God  so  clothe 
the  grass,  which  to-day  is  in  the  field,  and  to-morrow  is  cast 
into  the  oven,  how  much  more  will  he  clothe  you  !' J  Let  us 
here  adopt  a  little  of  the  tasteless  manner  of  modern  para- 

*  From  rp^TTO) ;  any  word  turned  from  its  primary  signification. 

j-  The  ingenious  author  cites  this  in  the  section  treating  of  ^^ pro- 
per terms,"  which  is  a  trifling  oversight;  as  it  is  plaiu  that  "lily" 
is  used  for  the  genua  "flower," — "Solomon,"  for  the  species 
"king,"  etc. 

%  Luke  xii.  27,  28. 


CH.  II.,  §  8.]  STYLE.  253 

phrasts  by  the  substitution  of  more  general  terms,  one  "of 
their  many  expedients  of  infrigidating,  and  let  us  observe  the 
effect  produced  by  this  change.  ^  Consider  the  flowers,  how 
they  gradually  increase  in  their  size  :  they  do  no  manner  of 
work,  and  yet  I  declare  to  you,  that  no  king  whatever,  in  his 
most  splendid  habit,  is  dressed  up  like  them.  If  then  God 
in  his  providence  doth  so  adorn  the  vegetable  productions, 
which  continue  but  little  time  on  the  land,  and  are  afterwards 
devoted  to  the  meanest  uses,  how  much  more  will  he  provide 
clothing  for  you !'  How  spiritless  is  the  same  sentiment 
rendered  by  these  small  variations  !  The  very  particularizing 
of  to-day  and  to-morrow  is  infinitely  more  expressive  of  tran- 
sitoriness,  than  any  description  wherein  the  terms  are  gen- 
eral, that  can  be  substituted  in  its  room."  It  is  a  remarkable 
circumstance  that  this  characteristic  of  style  is  perfectly  re- 
tained in  translation,  in  which  every  other  excellence  of  ex- 
pression is  liable  to  be  lost ;  so  that  the  prevalence  of  this 
kind  of  language  in  the  sacred  writers  may  be  regarded  as 
something  exhibiting  wisdom  of  design.  It  may  be  said 
with  truth,  that  the  book  which  it  is  the  most  necessary  to 
translate  into  every  language,' is  chiefly  characterized  by  that 
kind  of  excellence  in  diction  which  is  least  impaired  by  trans- 
lation. 


But  to  proceed  with  the  consideration  of  tropes  :  the  most 
employed  and  most  important  of  all  those  kinds 
of  expressions  which  depart  from  the  plain  and  and'snnHe. 
strictly  appropriate  style — all  that  are  called  by 
Aristotle,  Xena — is  the  metaphor,  in  the  usual  and  limited 
sense )  viz.,  a  word  substituted  for  another,  on  account  of  the 
resemblance  or  analogy  between  their  significations.  The 
simile  or  comparison  may  be  considered  as  difi"ering  in  form 
only  from  a  metaphor ;  the  resemblance  being  in  that  case 
stated,  which  in  the  metaphor  is  implied.*  Each  may  be 
founded  either  on  resemblance,  strictly  so  called,  i.  e.,  direct 
resemblance  between  the  objects  themselves  in  question,  (as 
when  we  speak  of  "  tahle-\^ndi,"  or  compare  great  waves  to 
Tiiountains,)   or   on  analogy,  which  is  the  resemblance  of 

*  See  Logic,  Chap.  III. 


254  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART  III. 

ratios — a  similarity  of  the  relations  they  bear  to  , certain 
other  objects;  as  when  we  speak  of  the  ^Hight  of  reason/' 
or  of  "  revelation ;''  or  compare  a  wounded  and  captive  war- 
rior to  a  stranded  ship.'^ 

The  analogical  metaphors  and  comparisons  are  both  the 
more  frequent  and  the  more  striking.  They  are 
mefatSiors  *^®  more  frequent,  because  almost  every  object 
has  such  a  multitude  of  relations,  of  different 
kinds,  to  many  other  objects ;  and  they  are  the  more  striking, 
because  (as  Dr.  A.  Smith  has  well  remarked)  the  more  remote 
and  unlike  in  themselves  any  two  objects  are,  the  more  is  the 
mind  impressed  and  gratified  by  the  perception  of  some  point 
in  which  they  agree. 

It  has  been  already  observed,  under  the  head  of  example, 
that  we  are  carefully  to  distinguish  between  an  illustration, 
(i.  e.,  an  argument  from  analogy  or  resemblance,)  and  what 
is  properly  called  a  simile  or  comparison,  introduced  merely 
to  give  force  or  beauty  to  the  expression.  And  it  was  added, 
that  the  aptness  and  beauty  of  an  illustration  sometimes  lead 
men  to  overrate,  and  sometimes  to  underrate,  its  force  as  an 
argument.*!" 

"with  respect  to  the  choice  between  the  metaphorical  form 
-and  that  of  comparison,  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  general  rule, 
that  the  former  is  always  to  be  preferred,^  wherever  it  is  suffi- 
ciently simple  and  plain  to  be  immediately  comprehended ; 
but  that  which  as  a  metaphor  would  sound  obscure  and  enig- 
matical, may  be  well  received  if  expressed  as  a  comparison. 
We  may  say,  e.  g.,  with  propriety,  that  "  Cromwell  trampled 
on  the  laws :"  it  would  sound  feeble  to  say  that  "  he  treated 
the  laws  with  the  same  contempt  as  a  man  does  any  thing 
which  he  tramples  under  his  feet."  On  the  other  hand  it 
would  be  harsh  and  obscure  to  say,  ^'  The  stranded  vessel  lay 
shaken  by  the  waves,''  meaning  the  wounded  chief  tossing  on 
the  bed  of  sickness ;  it  is  therefore  necessary  in  such  a  case 
to  state  the  resemblance.  But  this  is  never  to  be  done  more 
fully  than  is  necessary  to  perspicuity ;  because  all  men  are 
more  gratified  at  catching  the  resemblance  for  themselves, 

*  Rhoderic  Dliu,  in  the  "Lady  of  the  Lake." 
f  See  Part  I.,  chap,  iii.,  §  3, 

%  'Eariv  7/  elKtbv  [iETa<^opa,  dia(l>EpovGa  TrpoaBeoec,  dib  tjttov  ^6i),  on 
fiaKpoTEpug,  K.  T.  A. — Aristotle,  Rhet.f  Rook  IIL,  chap.  x. 


I 


CH.  II.,  §  3.]  STYLE.  255 

than  at  having  it  pointed  out  to  them.*  And  accordingly 
the  greatest  masters  of  this  kind  of  style,  when  the  case  will 
not  admit  of  pure  metaphor,  generally  prefer  a  mixture  of 
metaphor  with  simile ;  first  pointing  out  the  similitude,  and 
afterwards  employing  metaphorical  terms  which  imply  it;  or, 
vice  versa,  explaining  a  metaphor  by  a  statement  of  the  com-  ^ 
parison.  To  take  examples  of  both  kinds  from  an  author  who 
particularly  excels  in  this  point :  (speaking  of  a  morbid  fancy,) 

like  the  bat  of  ludian  brakes, 


Her  pinions  fan  the  wound  she  makes, 
And  soothing  thus  the  dreamer's  pain, 
She  drinks  the  life-blood  from  the  vein.f 

The  word  "  likc^^  makes  this  a  comparison ;  but  the  three 
succeeding  lines  are  metaphorical.  Again,  to  take  an  instance 
of  the  other  kind  : 

They  melted  from  the  field,  as  snow,  . 

When  streams  are  swollen,  and  south  winds  blow, 

Dissolves  in  silent  dew.  J 

Of  the  words  here  put  in  italics,  the  former  is  a  metaphor, 
the  latter  introduces  a  comparison.  Though  the  instances 
here  adduced  are  taken  from  a  poet,  the  judicious  manage- 
ment of  comparison  which  they  exemplify  is  even  more  essen- 
tial to  a  prose  writer,  to  whom  less  license  is  allowed  in  the 
employment  of  it.  It  is  a  remark  of  Aristotle,  (Rhet.,  Book 
III.,  chap,  iv.,)  that  the  simile  is  more  suitable  in  poetry, 
and  that  metaphor  is  the  only  ornament  of  language  in  which 
the  orator  may  freely  indulge.  He  should  therefore  be  the 
mare  careful  to  bring  a  simile  as  near  as  possible  to  the  meta- 
phorical form.  The  following  is  an  example  of  the  same  kind 
of  expression :  '^  These  metaphysic  rights  entering  into  commoji 
life,  like  rays  of  light  which  pierce  into  a  dense  medium,  are, 
by  the  laws  of  nature,  refracted  from  their  straight  line. 
Indeed,  in  the  gross  and  complicated  mass  of  human  passions 
and  concerns,  the  primitive  rights  of  man  undergo  such  a 
variety  of  refractions  and  reflections,  that  it  becomes  absurd 
to  talk  of  them  as  if  they  continued  in  the  simplicity  of  their 
original  direction. "§ 

^  To  fiavOuveiv  (iaSiug  ijdb  (pvaei. — Aristotle,  EheL,  Book  III.,  ch.  v. 
f  Rokcby.  J  Marmion.  g  On  the  French  Revolution. 


256  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

Metaphors  may  be  employed,  as  Aristptle  observes,  either 
Eievatino-or  *^  elevate  or  to  degrade  the  subject,  according  to 
degrading  the  design  of  the  author;  being  drawn  from 
metaphors.  similar  or  corresponding  objects  of  a  higher  or 
lower  character.  Thus  a  loud  and  vehement  speaker  may  be 
,  described  either  as  hdlowing  or  as  thundering.  And  in  both 
cases,  if  the  metaphor  is  apt  and  suitable  to  the  purpose  de- 
signed, it  is  alike  conducive  to  energy.  He  remarks  that  the 
same  holds  good  with  respect  to  epithets  also,  which  may  be 
drawm  either  from  the  highest  or  the  lowest  attributes  of  the 
thing  spoken  of.  Metonymy  likewise  (in  which  a  part  is  put 
for  a  whole,  a  cause  for  an  effect,  etc.)  admits  of  a  similar 
variety  in  its  applications. 

A  happier  example  cannot  be  found  than  the  one  which 
Aristotle  cites  from  Simonides,  who,  when  offered  a  small 
price  for  an  ode  to  celebrate  a  victory  in  a  mule  race,  expressed 
his  contempt  for  half-asses,  (Tjfiiovoi,)  as  they  were  commonly 
called  J  but  when  a  larger  sum  was  offered,  addressed  them 
in  an  ode  as  '^  Daughters  of  steeds  swift  as  the  storm :" 
(deXXon6dG)v  Ovyarpeg-  liTncdv.') 

Any  trope  (jxs  is  remarked  by  Dr.  Campbell)  adds  force  to 
the  expression  when  it  tends  to  fix  the  mind  on  that  part,  or 
circumstance,  in  the  object  spoken  of,  which  is  most  essential 
to  the  purpose  in  hand.  Thus,  there  is  an  energy  in  Abra- 
ham's periphrasis  for  ^'  Grod,''  when  he  is  speaking  of  the 
allotment  of  Divine  punishment :  "  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all 
the  earth  do  right?''  If,  again,  we  were  alluding  to  his 
omniscience,  it  would  be  more  suitable  to  say,  ^'  This  is  known 
only  to  the  Searcher  of  hearts  ;"  if  to  his  power,  we  should 
speak  of  him  as  "  the  Almighty,"  etc. 

Of  metaphors,  those  generally  conduce  most  to  that  energy 
or  vivacity  of  style  we  are  speaking  of,  which  illustrate  an 
intellectual  by  a  sensible  object;  the  latter  being  always  the 
most  early  familiar  to  the  mind,  and  generally  giving  the 
most  distinct  impression  to  it.  Thus  we  speak  of  "  unbridled 
rage,"  ^^deep-rooted  prejudice,"  ^^ glowing  eloquence,"  a 
^^  stony  heart,"  etc.  And  a  similar  use  may  be  made  of 
metonymy  also:  as  when  we  speak  of  the  ^Hhrone,"  or  the 
^^  crown,"  for  ''  royalty,"  the  ''  sword"  for  "  military  violence," 
etc. 

But  the  highest  degree  of  energy  (and  to  which  Aristotle 


CH.  II.,  §  3.]  ^  STYLE.  257 

chiefly  restricts  tlie  term)  is  produced  by  such 
metaphors  as  attribute  life  and  action  to  things  meTaphors!^ 
inanimate ;  and  that,  even  when  by  this  means 
the  last-mentioned  rule  is  violated,  i.  e.,  when  sensible  objects 
are  illustrated  by  intellectual.  For  the  disadvantage  is  over- 
balanced by  the  vivid  impression  produced  by  the  idea  of 
personality  or  activity  ;  as  when  we  speak  of  the  rage  of  a 
torrent,  a  furious  storm,  a  river  disdaining  to  endure  its 
bridge,  etc.'*' 

The  figure  called  by  rhetoricians  prosopopoeia  (literally, 
personification)  is,  in  fact,  no  other  than  a  metaphor  of  this 
kind  :  thus,  in  Demosthenes,  Greece  is  represented  as  address- 
ing the  Athenians.  So  also  in  the  book  of  Genesis,  (chap,  iv., 
verse  10,)  "  the  voice  of  thy  brother's  blood  crietli  unto  me 
from  the  ground. ^^ 

Many  such  expressions,  indeed,  are  in  such  common  use  as 
to  have  lost  all  their  metaphorical  force,  since  they  cease  to 
suggest  the  idea  belonging  to  their  primary  signification,  and 
thus  are  become,  practically,  proper  terms.  But  a  new,  or  at 
least  unhackneyed,  metaphor  of  this  kind,  if  it  be  not  far- 
fetched and  obscure,  adds  greatly  to  the  force  of  the  expres- 
sion. This  was  a  favorite  figure  with  Homer,  from  whom. 
Aristotle  has  cited  several  examples  of  it )  as  ^'  the  raging 
arrow,''  "  the  darts  eager  to  taste  of  flesh,''f  "  the  shameless" 
(or,  as  it  might  be  rendered  with  more  exactness,  though 
with  less  dignity,  ''  the  provolcing^  stone,''  {Xdag  dvacd'qg,) 
which  mocks  the  efi'orts  of  Sisyphus,  etc. 

Our  language  possesses  one  remarkable  advantage,  with  a 
view  to  this  kind  of  energy,  in  the  constitution  of  its  genders. 
All  nouns  in  English  which  express  objects  that  are  really 
neuter,  are  considered  as  strictly  of  the  neuter  gender;  the 
Greek  and  Latin,  though  possessing  the  advantage  (which  is 
wanting  in  the  languages  derived  from  Latin)  of  having  a 
neuter  gender,  yet  lose  the  benefit  of  it,  by  fixing  the  mascu-^ 
line  or  feminine  genders  upon  many  nouns  denoting  things 
inanimate ;  whereas  in  English,  when  we  speak  of  any  such 

*  Pontem  indignatus. 

f  There  is  a  peculiar  aptitude  in  some  of  these  expressions,  which 
the  modern  student  is  very  likely  to  overlook :  an  arrow  or  dart,  from 
its  flying  with  a  spinning  motion,  quivers  violently  when  it  is  fixed ; 
thus  suggesting  the  idea  of  a  person  trembling  with  eagerness. 
9 


258  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

object  in  the  masculine  or  feminine  gender,  tliat  form  of 
expression  at  once  confers  'per&onalUy  upon  it.  When  "  vir- 
tue/^ e.  g.,  or  our  '■'■  country/^  are  spoken  of  as  females,  or 
''  ocean'^  as  a  male,  etc.,  they  are  by  that  very  circumstance 
personified;  and  a  stimulus  is  thus  given  to  the  imagination, 
from  the  very  circumstance  that  in  a  calm  discussion  or 
description,  all  of  these  would  be  neuter;  whereas  in  Greek 
or  Latin,  as  in  French  or  Italian,  no  such  distinction  could 
be  made.  The  employment  of  ^^virtus,''  and  "dper'-q/'  in 
the  feminine  gender,  can  contribute,  accordingly,  no  anima- 
tion to  the  style,  when  they  could  not^  without  a  solecism,  be 
employed  otherwise. 

There  is,  however,  very  little,  comparatively,  of  energy 

produced  by  any  metaphor  or  simile  that  is  in 
metaJSor!        common  usc,  and  already  familiar  to  the  hearer. 

Indeed,  what  were  originally  the  boldest  meta- 
phors, are  become,  by  long  use,  virtually,  proper  terms ',  (as 
is  the  case  with  the  words  ^' source,'^  "  reflection,^^  etc.,  in 
their  transferred  senses;)  and  frequently  are  even  nearly  ob- 
solete in  the  literal  sense,  as  in  the  words  "  ardor,''  "  acute- 
ness,"  ^'ruminate,''  ^'edification,"*  etc.  If,  again,  a  metaphor 
or  simile  that  is  not  so  hackneyed  as  to  be  considered  com- 
mon property,  be  taken  from  any  known  author,  it  strikes 
every  one  as  no  less  a  plagiarism  than  if  an  entire  argument 
or  description  had  been  thus  transferred.  And  hence  it  is 
that,  as  Aristotle  remarks,  the  skilful  employment  of  these, 
more  than  of  any  other  ornaments  of  language,  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  "  mark  of  genius,"  {evcpvtag  arjiielov.')  Not  that 
he  means  to  say,^s  some  interpreters  suppose,  that  this  power 
is  entirely  a  gift  of  nature,  and  in  no  degree  to  be  learned ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  expressly  affirms  that  "the  perception 
of  resemblances,""!"  on  which  it  depends,  is  the  fruit  of 
"  philosophy  ;"|  but  he  means  that  any  metaphor  which  is 
striking  from  being  not  in  common  use,  is  a  kind  of  properUj 
of  him  who  has  invented  it,  and  cannot  be  transferred  from 
his  composition  to  another's. § 


■^  See  Hinds's  "  Three  Temples  ;"  Preface. 
f  To  uixoiov  opuv.    'Aristotle,  Rhet.,  Book  II. 
X  'Y'aov  EK  (piXoacptag.     Ibid.,  Books  II.  and  III. 
I  OvK  iari  irap'  uXAov  'AajSdv.     Ibid.,  Book  III. 


CH.  II.,  §  4.]  STYLE.  259 

Some  care  is  accordingly  requisite,  in  order  that  they  may 

be  readily  comprehended,  and  may  not  have  the     ^    , 

''        ok-        r      L-  J.  ^     ^         ^        ^  ,        Explanation 

appearance  oi  bemg  lar-ietched  and  extravagant,     of  meta- 

For  this  purpose  it  is  usual  to  combine  with  the  Phors. 
metaphor  a  proper  term  which  explains  it;  viz.,  either  at- 
tributing to  the  term  in  its  transferred  sense  something 
which  does  not  belong  to  it  in  its  literal  sense  ]  or,  vice  versa, 
denying  of  it  in  its  transferred  sense  something  which  does 
belong  to  it  in  its  literal  sense.  To- call  the  sea  the  ^'-watery 
bulwark'^  of  our  island,  would  be  an  instance  of  the  former 
kind )  an  example  of  the  latter  is  the  expression  of  a  writer 
who  speaks  of  the  dispersion  of  some  hostile  fleet  by  the 
winds  and  waves,  "  those  ancient  and  unsuhsidized  allies  of 
England.^' 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  mention  the  obvious  and  hack- 
neyed   cautions  against  mixture  of  metaphors ; 
and  against  any  that  are  complex  and  far-pursued,       complex 
so  as  to  approach  to  allegory.  metaphors. 

In  reference  to  the  former  of  these  faults,  Dr.  Johnson 
justly  censures  Addison  for  speaking  of  "  hridling  in  his 
muse,  who  longs  to  launch  into  a  nobler  strain ;"  "  which,'^ 
says  the  critic,  "is  an  act  that  was  never  restrained  by  a 
bridle.'^  Some,  however,  are  too  fastidious  on  this  point. 
Words  which,  by  long  use  in  a  transferred  sense,  have  lost 
nearly  all  their  metaphorical  force,  may  fairly  be  combined  in 
a  manner  which,  taking  them  literally,  would  be  incongruous. 
It  would  savor  of  hypercriticism  to  object  to  such  an  expres- 
sion as  "  fertile  source.'' 

In  reference  to  the  other  fault — that  of  the  too  complex 
metaphor — it  should  be  observed  that  the  more  apt  and 
striking  is  the  analogy  suggested,  the  more  will  it  have  of  an 
artificial  appearance ;  and  will  draw  off  the  reader's  attention 
from  the  subject,  to  admire  the  ingenuity  displayed  in  the 
style.  Young  writers  of  genius  ought  especially  to  be  ad- 
monished to  ask  themselves  frequently,  not  whether  this  or 
that  is  a  striJcing  expression,  but  whether  it  makes  the  mcan- 
inrj  more  striking  than  another  phrase  would — whether  it  im- 
presses more  forcibly  the  sentiment  to  be  conveyed. 

§4. 
Epithets,  in  the  rhetorical  sense,  denote,  not  every  adjec- 


260  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

tive,  but  those  only  which  do  not  add  to  the 

^^  ^^  ^'         sense,  but  siii;nify  something  already  implied  in 

the  noun  itself;  as,  if  one  says,  "ilia  glorious  sun  :"   on  the 

other  hand,  to  speak  of  the  ^'rishig"  or  '^meridian  sun" 

would  not  be  considered  as,  in  this  sense,  employing  an  epithet. 

It  is  a  common  practice  with  some  writers  to  endeavor  to 
add  force  to  their  expressions  by  accumulating  high-sounding 
epithets,  denoting  the  greatness,  beauty,  or  other  admirable 
qualities  of  the  things  spoken  of;  but  the  effect  is  generally 
the  reverse  of  what  is  intended.  Most  readers,  except  those 
of  a  very  vulgar  or  puerile  taste, "are  disgusted  at  studied 
efforts  to  point  out  and  force  upon  their  attention  whatever 
is  remarkable ;  and  this,  even  when  the  ideas  conveyed  are 
themselves  striking.  ]5ut  when  an  attempt  is  made  to  cover 
poverty  of  thought  with  mock  sublimity  of  language,  and  to 
set  off  trite  sentiments  and  feeble  arguments  by  tawdry  mag- 
nificence, the  only  result  is,  that  a  kind  of  indignation  is 
superadded  to  contempt ;  as  when  (to  use  Quinctilian's  com- 
parison) an  attempt  is  made  to  supply,  by  paint,  the  natural 
glow  of  a  youthful  and  healthy  complexion. 

^'A  principal  device  in  the  fabrication  of  this  style"  (the 
mock-eloquent)  '^  is  to  multiply  epithets — dry  epithets,  laid 
on  the  outside,  and  into  which  none  of  the  vitality  of  the 
sentiment  is  found  to  circulate.  You  may  take  a  great  num- 
ber of  the  words  out  of  each  page,  and  find  that  the  sense  is 
neither  more  nor  less  for  your  having  cleared  the  composition 
of  these  epithets  of  chalk  of  various  colors,  with  which  the 
tame  thoughts  had  submitted  to  be  rubbed  over,  in  order  to 
be  made  fine."* 

We  expect,  indeed,  and  excuse  in  ancient  writers,  as  a  part 
of  the  unrefined  simplicity  of  a  ruder  language, 
rigi  s  y  e.  ^^^^  ^  redundant  use  of  epithets  as  would  not  be 
tolerated  in  a  modern,  even  in  a  translation  of  their  works : 
the  "  white  milk,"  and  "  dark  gore,"  etc.,  of  Homer  must  not 
be  retained ;  at  least,  not  so  frequently  as  they  occur  in  the 
original.  Aristotle,  indeed,  gives  us  to  understand  that  in 
his  time  this  liberty  was  still  allowed  to  poets ;  but  later  taste 
is  more  fastidious.  He  censures,  however,  the  adoption,  by 
prose,  writers,  of  this,  and  of  every  other  kind  of  ornament 

*  Foster,  Essay  IV. 


CH.  II.,  §  4.]  STYLE.  261 

that  might  seem  to  border  on  the  'poetical;  and  he  bestows 
on  such  a  style  the  appellation  o^^^frigidr  (i^vxp6v,)  which 
at  first  may  appear  somewhat  remarkable,  (thouS  the  s-imo 
expression,  "  frigid,- might  very  properly  be  sS  applied  in 
our  own  language  also,)  because  the  words  ^'warm/'  ''nhic- 
ing     and  such  like  metaphors,  seem  naturally  applicable  to 
poetiy      Ihis  very  circumstance,  however,  does  in  reality  ac- 
count lor  the  use  ot  the  other  expression.    We  are,  in  poeti- 
cal prose,  reminded  o^^^x^^  for  that  reason  disposed  to  mm, 
the  ^^  warmth  and  glow"  of  poetry.     It  is  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple that  we  are  disposed  to  speak  of  coldne^^  in  the  rays  of 
the  moon,  because  they  remind  us  of  sunshine,  but  want  its 
warmth;  and  that  (to  use  an  humbler  and  more  familiar  in- 
stance) an  enipty  fireplace  is  apt  to  sug-est  an  idea  of  cold 

Ihe  use  of  epithets,  however,  in  prose  composition,  is  not 
to  be  proscribed ;  as  the  judicious  employment  of  them  is 
undoubtedly  conducive  to  energy.     It  is  extremely  difficult 
to  lay  down  any  precise  rules  on  such  a  point.    The  only  safe 
guide  in  practice  must  be  a  taste  formed  from  a  familiarity 
with  the  best  authors,  and  from  the  remarks  of  a  skilful  critic 
on  one  s  own  compositions.     It  may,  however,  be  laid  down 
as  a  general  caution,  more  particularly  needful   for  youn- 
writers,  that  an  excessive  luxuriance  of  style,  and  especially 
a  redundancy  of  epithets,  is  the  worse  of  the  two  extremes  • 
as  It  IS  a  positive  fault,  and  a  very  ofi"ensive  one;  while  the 
opposite  IS  but  the  absence  of  an  excellence. 

It^  IS  also  an  important  rule,  that  the  boldest  and  most 
striking  and  almost  poetical,  turns  of  expression,  should  be 
reserved  (as  Aristotle  has  remarked,  Book  III.,  chip,  vii.)  for 
the  most  impassioned  parts  of  a' discourse;  and  that  an  author 
should  guard  against  the  vain  ambition  of  ex- 
pressing every  thing  in  an  eqnalh,  high-wrouo-ht  ^^"^■^? 
brilliant,  and  forcible  style.     The^neglect  of  this        S?i. 
caution  often  occasions  the  imitation  of  the  best        ^^''''ancy. 
models  to  prove  detrimental.     When  the  admiration  of  some 
fane  and  animated  passages  leads  a  young  writef  to  take  those 
passages  for  his  general  model,  and  to  endeavor  to  make 
every  sentence  he  composes  equally  fine,  he  will,  on  the  con- 
t  ary,  give  a  flatness  to  the  whole,  and  destroy  the  effect  of 
those  portions  which  would  have  been  forcible  if  they  had 
been  allowed  to  stand  inominenL     To  brighten   the  dark 


262  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

parts  of  a  picture,  produces  mucli  the  same  result  as  if  one 
had  darkened  the  bright  parts  :  in  either  case  there  is  a  want 
of  relief  and  contrast ;  and  composition,  as  well  as  painting, 
has  its  lights  and  shades,  which  must  be  distributed  with  no 
less  skill,  if  we  would  produce  the  desired  effect.* 

In  no  place,  however,  will  it  be  advisable  to  introduce  any 

epithet  which  does  not  fulfil  one  of  these  two 
epUhe/s.  purposes :    Is.t,  to    explain  a  metaphor;    a  use 

which  has  been  noticed  under  that  head,  and 
which  will  justify,  and  even  require,  the  introduction  of  an 
epithet,  which,  if  it  had  been  joined  to  the  proper  term, 
would  have  been  glaringly  superfluous :  thus  ^schylusf 
speaks  of  the  "  loinged  hound  of  Jove,"  meaning  the  eagle : 
to  have  said  the  "wi7iged  eagle/'  would  have  had  a  very  dif- 
ferent effect.  2dly.  When  the  epithet  expresses  something 
which,  though  mip)lied  in  the  subject,  would  not  have  been 
likely  to  occur  at  once  spontaneously  to  the  hearer's  mind, 
and  yet  is  important  to  be  noticed  with  a  view  to  the  purpose 
in  hand.  Indeed,  it  will  generally  happen  that  the  epithets 
employed  by  a  skilful  orator  will  be  found  to  be,  in  fact,  so 
many  abridged  arguments,  the  force  of  which  is  sufficiently 
conveyed  by  a  mere  hint :  e.  g.,  if  any  one  says,  "We  ought 
to  take  warning  from  the  hloody  revolution  of  France,"  the 
epithet  suggests  one  of  the  reasons  for  our  being  warned ) 
and  that  not  less  clearly,  and  more  forcibly,  than  if  the  argu- 
ment had  been  stated  at  length.  J 

§5. 

With  respect  to  the  use  of  antiquated,  foreign,  new-coined, 

or  new-compounded  words,§  or  words  applied  in 

?xpr"eTsTon"s.     ^^^  unusual  scusc,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  observe, 

that  all  writers,  and  prose  writers  most,  should  be 

*  Omnia  vult  belle  Matho  dicere ;  die  aliquando. 
Et  bene  ;  die  neuirum :  die  aliquando  male. 

f  Prometheu^. 

%  See  Part  I.,  chap,  iii.,  §  3. 

I  It  is  a  curious  instance  of  whimsical  inconsistency,  that  many 
who,  with  justness,  censure  as  pcdantie  the  frequent  introduction  of 
Greek  and  Latin  words,  neither  object  to,  nor  refrain  from,  a  similar 
pedantry  with  respect  to  Freneh  and  Italian. 

This  kind  of  affectation  is  one  of  the  "  dangers"  of  "a  liitle  learn- 


CH.  II.,  §  5.]  STYLE.  263 

very  cautious  and  sparing  in  the  use  of  them ;  not  only  be- 
cause in  excess  they  produce  a  barbarous  dialect,  but  because 
they  are  so  likely  to  suggest  the  idea  of  artifice  ;  the  percep- 
tion of  which  is  most  especially  adverse  to  energy.  The  oc- 
casional apt  introduction  of  such  a  term  will  sometimes  pro- 
duce a  powerful  eflfect ;  but  whatever  may  seem  to  savor  of 
affectation,  or  even  of  great  solicitude  and  study  in  the  choice 
of  terms,  will  eflPectually  destroy  the  true  effect  of  eloquence. 
The  language  which  betrays  art,  and  carries  not  an  air  of 
simplicity  and  sincerity,  may,  indeed,  by  some  hearers,  bo 
thought  not  only  very  fine,  but  even  very  energetic ;  this 
very  circumstance,  however,  may  be  taken  for  a  proof  that  it 
is  not  so ;  for  if  it  had  been,  thci/  iccmid  not  have  thought 
about  it,  but  would  have  been  occupied,  exclusively,  with  the 
suhject.  An  unstudied  and  natural  air,  therefore,  is  an  ex- 
cellence to  which  the  true  orator,  i.  e.,  he  who  is  aiming  to 
cari'i/  his  jjoirit,  will  be  ready  to  sacrifice  any  other  that  may 
interfere  with  it. 

The  principle  here  laid  down  will  especially  apply  to  the 
choice  of  words,  with  a  view  to  their  imitative, 
or  otherwise  appropriate  sound.  The  attempt  to  sicTei-ed  as^' 
make  "  the  sound  an  echo  to  the  sense,"  is  indeed  sounds. 
more  frequently  to  be  met  with  in  poets  than  in  prose  writers ; 
but  it  may  be  worth  remarking,  that  an  evident  effort  after 
this  kind  of  excellence,  as  it  is  offensive  in  auy  kind  of  com- 
position, would  in  prose  appear  peculiarly  disgusting.  Critics 
treating  on  this  subject  have  gone  into  opposite  extremes : 
some,  fancifully  attributing  to  words,  or  combinations  of 
words,  an  imitative  power  far  beyond  what  they  can  really 


ing:"  those  who  are  really  good  linguists  are  seldom  so  anxious  to 
display  their  knowledge. 

It  has  been  the  fashion  of  late  years  with  some  few  authors  to  write 
a  sort  of  bastard  English,  full  of  German  idioms,  and  of  new-coined 
words,  fashioned  on  a  German  model.  This  passes  with  some  per- 
sons for  uncommon  eloquence;  which  it  resembles  in  being  "uncom- 
mon." Some  readers,  again,  of  better  taste  than  not  to  condemn  this 
style,  are  yet  so  far  deceived  by  it  as  to  imagine  a  great  profundity 
in  the  thouglits  conveyed ;  the  oddncss  of  the  expression  giving  an 
air  of  originality  to  much  that  would  probably  appear  trite  if  said  in 
plain  English. 


264  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

possess,*  and  representing  this  kind  of  imitation  as  deserving 
to  be  studiously  aimed  at;  and  others,  on  the  contrary,  con- 
sidering nearly  the  whole  of  this  kind  of  excellence  as  no 
better  than  imaginary,  and  regarding  the  examples  which  do 
occur,  and  have  been  cited,  of  a  congruity  between  the  sound 
and  the  sense,  as  purely  accidental. 

The  truth  probably  lies  between  these  two  extremes. 

In  the  first  place,  that  words  denoting  sounds,  or  employed 
in  describing  them,  may  be  imitative  of  those  sounds,  must 
be  admitted  by  all ;  indeed,  this  kind  of  imitation  is,  to  a 
certain  degree,  almost  unavoidable,  in  our  language  at  least ; 
which  abounds,  perhaps  more  than  any  other,  in  these,  as 
they  may  be  called,  naturally  expressive  terms;  such  as 
"  hiss,"  "  rattle,"  '*  clatter,"  "  splash,"  and  many  others. f 

In  the  next  place,  it  is  also  allowed  by  most,  that  quick  or 
slow  motion  may,  to  a  certain  degree,  at  least,  be  imitated  or 
represented  by  words ;  many  short  syllables  (unencumbered 
by  a  clash  either  of  vowels,  or  of  consonants  coming  together) 
being  pronounced  in  the  same  time  with  a  smaller  number  of 
long  syllables,  abounding  with  these  encumbrances,  the  former 
seems  to  have  a  natural  correspondence  to  a  quick,  and  the 
latter  to  a  slow  motion ;  since  in  the  one  a  greater,  and  in  the 
other  a  leps  space,  seem  to  be  passed  over  in  the  same  time. 
In  the  ancient  poets,  their  hexameter  verses  being  always 
considered  as  of  the  same  length,  i.  e.,  in  respect  of  the  time 
taken  to  pronounce  them,  whatever  proportion  of  dactyls  or 
spondees  they  contained,  this  kind  of  imitation  of  quick  or 
slow  motion  is  the  more  apparent ;  and  after  making  all  allow- 
ances for  fancy,  it  seems  impossible  to  doubt  that  in  many  in- 

*  Pope  has  accordingly  been  censured  for  his  inconsistency  in. 
making  the  Alexandrine  represent  both  a  quick  and  a  slow  motion : 

1.  "  Flies  o'er  th'  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main." 

2.  "  Which,  like  a  wounded  snake,  drags  its  slow  length  along." 

In  the  first  instance,  he  forgot  that  an  Alexandrine  is  long,  from  con- 
taining more  feet  than  a  common  verse ;  "whereas  a  long  hexameter 
has  but  the  same  number  of  feet  as  a  short  one,  and  thei'efore,  being 
pronounced  in  the  same  time,  seems  to  move  more  rapidly. 

In  the  former  of  these  verses  the  crowd  of  consonants  in  "  o'er  th' 
unbending"  does  not  seem  well  adapted  to  express  swift  and  smooth 
motion. 

f  See  Wallis,  Gram.  Anglic. 


en.  ii.j  §  6.]  STYLE.  2G5 

stances  it  does  exist;  as,  e.  g.,  in  the  often-cited  line  wbicli 
expresses  the  rolling  of  Sisyphus's  stone  down  the  hill ; 

KvOig  eireira  7redov(5e  nvMvSeTo  7\.dag  uvaidr/^. 

The  following  passage  from  the  uEneid  can  hardly  be  de- 
nied to  exhibit  a  correspondence  with  the  slow  and  quick 
motions,  at  least,  which  it  describes :  that  of  the  Trojans  la- 
boriously hewing  the  foundations  of  a  tower  on  the  top  of 
Priam's  palace,  and  that  of  its  sudden  and  violent  fall : 

Aggressl  ferro  circum,  qua  sunima  labanics* 
Junciurds  tabulata  dabant,  divellimus  aliis 
Scdibus,  impultmusque,  ^a  lapsa  repente  ruinam 
Cum  sonitu  irahlt,  et  Ddnaum  super  agmMa  late 
Incldlt. 

But,  lastly,  it  seems  not  to  require  any  excessive  exercise 
of  fancy  to  perceive,  if  not,  properly  speaking,  an  imitation, 
by  words,  of  other  things  besides  sound  and  motion,  at  least 
an  analogical  aptitude.  That  there  is  at  least  an  apparent 
analogy  between  things  sensible  and  things  intelligible,  is 
implied  by  numberless  metaphors;  as  when  we  speak  of 
''^  rough,  or  harsh,  soft,  or  smooth,  manners,''  ^^  turbulent  pas- 
sions," the  "  stroke  or  the  storms  of  adversity,"  etc.  Now  if 
there  are  any  words  or  combinations  of  words  which  have  in 
their  sound  a  congruity  with  certain  sensible  objects,  there  is 
no  reason  why  they  should  not  have  the  same  congruity  with 
those  emotions,  actions,  etc.,  to  which  these  sensible  objects 
are  analogous.  Especially,  as  it  is  universally  allowed  that 
certain  musical  combinations  arc,  respectively,  appropriate  to 
the  expression  of  grief,  anger,  agitation,  etc. 

On  the  whole,  the  most  probable  conclusion  seems  to  be, 
that  many  at  least  of  the  celebrated  passages  that  are  cited 
as  imitative  in  sound,  were,  on  the  one  hand,  not  the  result 
of  accident,  nor  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  of  study ;  but  that 

*  The  slow  movement  of  this  line  would  be  much  more  perceptible, 
if  we  pronounced  (as  doubtless  the  Latins  did)  the  doubled  cotisonanis, 

*^ag-gr€s~si  fcr-ro sum-ma;^'  but  in  English,  and  consequently  in 

the  English  way  of  reading  Latin  or  Greek,  the  doubling  of  a  con- 
sonant only  serves  to  fix  the  place  of  the  accent;  the  latter  of  the 
two  being  never  pronounced,  except  in  a  very  few  compound  words ; 
as  *•  innate,"  *' con-natural,"  "poor-rate,"  "hop-pole." 


266  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

the  idea  in  tlie  author's  mind  spontaneously  suggested  appro- 
priate sounds  :  thus,  when  Milton's  mind  was  occupied  with 
the  idea  of  the  opening  of  the  infernal  gates,  it  seems  natural 
that  his  expression, 

-and  on  their  hinges  grate 


Harsh  thunder, 

should  have  occurred  to  him  without  any  distinct  intention 
of  imitating  sounds. 

It  will  be  the  safest  rule,  therefore,  for  a  prose  writer  at 
least,  never  to  make  any  distinct  effort  after  this  kind  of 
energy  of  expression,  but  to  trust  to  the  spontaneous  occur- 
rence of  suitable  sounds  on  every  occasion  where  the  intro- 
duction of  them  is  likely  to  have  good  effect. 

§6. 

It  is   hardly  necessary  to   give   any  warning,  generally, 

against  the  unnecessary  introduction  of  techni- 
ianeua^^e^         caZ  language  of  any  kind,  when  the  meaning  can 

be  adequately,  or  even  tolerably,  expressed  in 
common,  i.  e.,  unscientific  words.  The  terms  and  phrases  of 
art  have  an  air  of  pedantic  affectation,  for  which  they  do  not 
compensate,  by  even  the  smallest  appearance  of  increased 
energy.*     But  there  is  an  apparent  exception  to  this  rule  in 

the  case  of  what  may  be  called  the  "  theological 
stvfe^°^'^^^      style :"  a  peculiar  phraseology,  adopted  more  or 

less  by  a  large  proportion  of  writers  of  sermons 

*  Of  course  this  rule  does  not  apply  to  avowedly  technical  sys- 
tems of  instruction.  In  such  works  the  usual  and  the  best  rule  is, 
to  employ  as  far  as  possible  such  technical  terms  as  custom  has 
already  established;  defining,  modifying,  restricting,  extending,  etc., 
these,  if  necessary,  as  the  occasion  may  require.  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, the  introduction  of  new  ones  will  be  called  for,  either  in  addi- 
tion to  ,the  others,  or  in  their  stead,  when  there  are  very  strong  ob- 
jections against  these.     See  Introduction :  latter  part  of  §  4, 

It  is  no  uncommon  trick  with  some  writers  to  invent  and  adopt,  on 
the  slightest  pretext,  complete  new  sets  of  technical  terms,  the  more 
strange  and  uncouth,  the  better  for  their  purpose ;  and  thus  to  pass 
oif  long-known  truths  for  prodigious  discoveries,  and  gain  the  credit 
of  universal  originality  by  the  boldness  of  their  innovations  in  lan- 
guage: like  some  voyagers  of  discovery,  who  take  possession  of  coun- 
tries, whether  before  visited  or  not,  by  formally  giving  them  new 
names. 


CH.  II.,  §  6.]  STYLE.  267 

and  other  religious  works ;  consisting  partly  of  peculiar  terms, 
but  cliiefly  of  common  words  used  in  a  peculiar  sense  or  com- 
bination, so  as  to  form  altogether  a  kind  of  diction  widely 
diifering  from  the  classical  standard  of  the  language.  This 
phraseology,  having  been  formed  partly  from  the  style  of 
some  of  the  most  eminent  divines,  partly,  and  to  a  much 
greater  degree,  from  that  of  the  Scriptures,  i.  e.,  of  our  ver- 
sion, has  been  supposed  to  carry  with  it  an  air  of  appropriate 
dignity  and  sanctity,  which  greatly  adds  to  the  force  of  what 
is  said.  And  this  may,  perhaps,  be  the  case  when  what  is 
said  is  of  little  or  no  intrinsic  weight,  and  is  only  such  meagre 
commonplace  as  many  rcHgious  works  consist  of:  the  asso- 
ciations which  such  language  will  excite  in  the  minds  of  those 
accustomed  to  it,  supplying  in  some  degree  the  deficiencies 
of  the  matter.  But  this  diction,  though  it  may  serve  as  a 
veil  for  poverty  of  thought,  will  be  found  to  produce  no  less 
the  effect  of  obscuring  the  lustre  of  what  is  truly  valuable  : 
if  it  adds  an  appearance  of  strength  to  what  is  weak,  it  adds 
weakness  to  what  is  strong ;  and  if  pleasing  to  those  of  nar- 
row and  ill-cultivated  minds,  it  is  in  a  still  higher  degree  re- 
pulsive to  persons  of  taste. 

It  may  be  said,  indeed,  with  truth,  that  the  improvement 
of  the  majority  is  a  higher  object  than  the  gratification  of  a 
refined  taste  in  a  few ;  but  it  may  be  doubted  whether  any 
real  energy,  even  with  respect  to  any  class  of  hearers,  is 
gained  by  the  use  of  such  a  diction  as  that  of  which  I  am 
speaking.  For  it  will  often  be  found  that  what  is  received 
with  great  approbation,  is  yet  (even  ifj  strictly  speaking,  un- 
derstood) but  very  little  attended  to,  or  impressed  upon  the 
minds  of  the  hearers.  Terms  and  phrases  which  have  been 
long  familiar  to  them,  and  have  certain  vague  and  indistinct 
notions  associated  with  them,  men  often  suppose  themselves 
to  understand  much  more  fully  than  they  do ;  and  still  oftener 
give  a  sort  of  indolent  assent  to  what  is  said,  without  making 
any  effort  of  thought. 

It  is  justly  observed  by  Mr.  Foster,  (Essay  IV.,)  when  treat- 
ing on  this  subject,  that  "with  regard  to  a  considerable  pro- 
portion of  Christian  readers  and  hearers,  a  reformed  lan- 
guage would  be  excessively  strange  to  them;"  but  that  "its 
heing  so  strange  to  them,  would  be  a  proof  of  the  necessity 
of  adopting  it,  at  least  in  part,  and  by  degrees.     For  the 


268  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

manner  in  which  some  of  them  would  receive  this  altered 
diction,  would  prove  that  the  customary  phraseology  had 
scarcely  given  them  any  clear  ideas.  It  would  be  found  that 
the  peculiar  phrases  had  been  not  so  much  the  vehicles  of 
ideas,  as  the  substitutes  for  them.*  These  readers  and 
hearers  have  been  accustomed  to  chime  to  the  sound,  with- 
out apprehending  the  sense;  insomuch,  that  if  they  hear  the 
very  ideas  which  these  phrases  signify,  expressed  ever  so 
simply  in  other  language,  they  do  not  recognize  them." 

He  observes  also,  with  much  truth,  that  the  studied  incor- 
poration and  imitation  of  the  language  of  the  Scriptures  in 
the  texture  of  any  discourse,  neither  indicates  reverence  for 
the  sacred  composition,  nor  adds  to  the  dignity  of  that  which 
is  human ;  but  rather  diminishes  that  of  such  passages  as 
might  be  introduced  from  the  sacred  writings  in  pur^  and 
distinct  qi^otation,  standing  contrasted  with  the  general  style 
of  the  work. 

Of  the  technical  terms,  as  they  may  be  called,  of  Theology, 
there  are  many,  the  place  of  which  might  easily  be  supplied 
by  corresponding  expressions  in  common  use ;  and  there  are 
many,  again,  which  are  remnants  of  the  philosophy  of  the 
schoolmen,  but  are  employed  frequently  by  persons  who  know 
nothing  of  the  metaphysical  theories  which  gave  rise  to  the 
use  of  such  terms.f  There  are  others,  doubtless,  which, 
denoting  ideas  exclusively  belonging  to  the  subject,  could  not 
be  avoided  without  a  tedious  circumlocution ;  these,  there- 
fore, may  be  admitted  as  allowable  peculiarities  of  diction ; 
and  the  others,  perhaps,  need  not  be  entirely  disused ;  but  it 
is  highly  desirable  that  both  should  be  very  frequently  ex- 
changed for  words  or  phrases  entirely  free  from  any  techni- 
cal peculiarity,  even  at  the  expense  of  some  circumlocution. 
Not  that  this  should  be  done  so  constantly  as  to  render  the 
terms  in  question  obsolete;  but  by  introducing  frequently 
both  the  term,  and  a  sentence  explanatory  of  the  same  idea, 
the  evil  just  mentioned — the  habit  of  not  thinking,  or  not 

*  It  may  he  added  that  many  would  at  once  take  for  granted  that 
any  alteration  in  the  statement  of  any  doctrine — though  the  phrases 
they  had  been  accustomed  to  were  avowedly  of  man's  framing — im- 
plies a  rejection  of  the  doctrine  itself;  and  they  would  accordingly 
raise  a  cry  of  Heresy. 

f  See  Hampden,  "Bampton  Lect," 


CH.  II.,  §  6.]  STYLE.  "  269 

thinking  attentively,  of  the  meaning  of  what  is  said — will  be, 
in  great  measure,  guarded  against ;  the  technical  words  them- 
selves will  make  a  more  forcible  expression,  and  the  danger 
of  sliding  into  unmeaning  cant  will  be  materially  lessened. 
Such  repetitions,  therefore,  will  more  than  compensate  for,  or 
rather  will  be  exempt  from,  any  appearance  of  tediousness, 
by  the  addition  both  of  perspicuity  and  energy. 

"  It  must  indeed  be  acknowledged,  that  in  many  cases  in- 
novations have  been  introduced,  partly  by  the  ceasing  to  em- 
ploy the  words  designating  those  doctrines  which  were  de- 
signed to  be  set  aside;  but  it  is  probable  they  may  have  been 
still  more  frequently  and  successfully  introduced  under  the . 
advantage  of  retaining  the  terms,  while  the  principles  were 
gradually  subverted.  And  therefore,  since  the  peculiar  words 
can  be  kept  to  one  invariable  signification  only  by  keeping 
that  signification  clearly  in  sight,  by  means  of  something 
separate  from  these  words  themselves,  it  might  be  wise  in 
Christian  authors  and  speakers  sometimes  to  express  the  ideas 
in  common  words,  either  in  connection  with  the  peculiar 
terms,  or,  occasionally,  instead  of  them.  Common  words 
might  less  frequently  be  applied  as  affected  denominations 
of  things  which  have  their  own  direct  and  common  denomi- 
nations, and  be  less  frequently  combined  into  uncouth  phrases. 
Many  peculiar  and  antique  words  might  be  exchanged  for 
other  single  words  of  equivalent  signification,  and  in  common 
use.  And  the  small  number  of  peculiar  terms  acknowledged 
and  established  as  of  permanent  use  and  necessity,  might, 
even  separately  from  the  consideration  of  modifying  "the 
diction,  be,  occasionally,  with  advantage  to  the  explicit  decla- 
ration and  clear  comprehension  of  Christian  truth,  made  to 
give  place  to  a  fuller  expression,  in  a  number  of  common 
words,  of  those  ideas  of  which  they  are  single  signs."* 

It  may  be  asserted  but  with  too  much  truth  that  a  very 
considerable  proportion  of  Christians  have  a  habit  of  laying 
aside  in  a  great  degree  their  common  sense,  and  letting  it,  as 
it  were,  lie  dormant,  when  points  of  religion  come  before 
them :  as  if  reason  were  utterly  at  variance  with  religion, 
and  the  ordinary  principles  of  sound  judgment  were  to  be 
completely  superseded  on  that  subject.     And  accordingly  it 

*  Foster,  Essay  IV.,  p.  301. 


270  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   lU. 

will  be  found  that  there  are  many  errors  which  are  adopted, 
many  truths  which  are  overlooked  or  not  clearly  understood, 
and  many  difficulties  which  stagger  and  perplex  them,  for 
want,  properly  speaking,  of  the  exercise  of  their  common 
sense ;  i.  e.,  in  cases  precisely  analogous  to  such  as  daily 
occur  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life;  in  which  those  very 
same  persons  would  form  a  correct,  clear,  prompt,  and  de- 
cisive judgment.  It  is  well  worthy  of  consideration,  how  far 
the  tendency  to  this  habit  might  be  diminished  by  the  use 
of  a  diction  conformable  to  the  suggestions  which  have  been 
here  brought  forward. 

§7. 

With  respect  to  the  numher  of  words  employed,  ^'it  is 
certain,"  as  Dr.  Campbell  observes,  "that  of 
dependent  whatever  kind  the  sentiment  be,  witty,  humor- 
on  the  ous,  grave,  animated,  or  sublime,  the  more  hriejiy 
fhe^vords.  i^  is  expressed,  the  energy  is  the  greater."  "As 
when  the  rays  of  the  sun  are  collected  into  the 
focus  of  a  burning-glass,  the  smaller  the  spot  is  which  re- 
ceives them  compared  with  the  surface  of  the  glass,  the 
greater  is  the  splendor ;  so,  in  exhibiting  our  sentiments  by 
speech,  the  narrower  the  compass  of  words  is,  wherein  the 
thought  is  comprised,  the  more  energetic  is  the  expression. 
Accordingly,  we  find  that  the  very  same  sentiment  expressed 
diffusely,  will  be  admitted  barely  to  be  just;  expressed  con- 
cisely, will  be  admired  as  spirited.'''  He  afterwards  remarks, 
that  though  a  languid  redundancy  of  words  is  in  all  cases  to 
be  avoided,  the  energetic  brevity  which  is  the  most  contrary 
to  it,  is  not  adapted  alike  to  every  subject  and  occasion. 
"  The  kinds  of  writing  which  are  less  susceptible  of  this 
ornament,  are  the  descriptive,  the  pathetic,  the  declamatory,* 
especially  the  last.  It  is,  besides,  much  more  suitable  in 
writing  than  in  speaking.  A  reader  has  the  command  of  his 
time ;  he  may  read  fast  or  slow,  as  he  finds  convenient ;  he 
can  peruse  a  sentence  a  second  time  when  necessary,  or  lay 
down  the  book  and  think.  But  if,  in  haranguing  the  people, 
you  comprise  a  great  deal  in  a  few  words,  the  hearer  must 

*  This  remark  is  made,  and  the  pi'iuciple  of  it  (which  Dr.  Camp- 
bell has  omitted)  subjoined,  in  Part  II.,  chap,  ii.,  \  2,  of  this  treatise. 


CH.  II.,  §  7.]  STYLE.  271 

have  uncommon  quickness  of  apprehension  to  catch  the 
meaning  before  you  have  put  it  out  of  his  power,  by  engag- 
ing his  attention  to  something  else." 

The  mode  in  which  this  inconvenience  should  be  obviated, 
and  in  which  the  requisite  expansion  may  be  given  to  any 
thing  which  the  persons  addressed  cannot  comprehend  in  a 
very  small  compass,  is,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  not  so 
much  by  increasing  the  number  of  words  in  which  the  senti- 
ment is  conveyed  in  each  sentence,  (though  in  this,  some 
variation  must  of  course  be  admitted,)  as  by  repeating  it  in 
various  forms.  The  uncultivated  and  the  dull  will  require 
greater  expansion  and  more  copious  illustration  of  the  same 
thought  than  the  educated  and  the  acute;  but  they  are  even 
still  more  liable  to  be  wearied  or  bewildered  by  prolixity.  If 
the  material  is  too  stubborn  to  be  speedily  cleft,  we  must 
patiently  continue  our  efforts  for  a  longer  time,  in  order  to 
accomplish  it ;  but  this  is  to  be  done,  not  by  making  each 
blow  fall  more  sloicli/,  which  would  only  enfeeble  them,  but 
by  often-rejjeated  blows. 

It  is  needful  to  insist  the  more  on  the  energetic  effect  of 
conciseness,  because  so  many,  especially  young  ,  . 
writers  and  speakers,  are  apt  to  fall  into  a  style  ve?se*To%er- 
of  pompous  verbosity,  not  from  negligence,  but  ^^gj^g^^"*^ 
from  an  idea  that  they  are  adding  both  perspicu- 
ity and  force  to  what  is  said,  when  they  are  only  encumber- 
ing the  sense  with  a  needless  load  of  words.  And  they  arc 
the  more  likely  to  commit  this  mistake,  because  such  a  style 
will  often  appear  not  only  to  the  author,  but  to  the  vulgar, 
(i.  e.,  the  vulgar  in  intellect,^  among  his  hearers,  to  be  very 
majestic  and  impressive.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  hear  a 
speaker  or  writer  of  this  class  mentioned  as  having  a  "  very 
fine  command  of  language,"  when,  perhaps,  it  might  be  said 
with  more  correctness  that  ''  his  language  has  a  command  of 
him;"  i.  e.,  that  he  follows  a  train  of  words  rather  than  of 
thought,  and  strings  together  all  the  striking  expressions  that 
occur  to  him  on  the  subject,  instead  of  first  forming  a  clear 
notion  of  the  sense  he  wishes  to  convey,  and  then  seeking  for 
the  most  appropriate  vehicle  in  which  to  convey  it.  He  has 
but  the  same  "  command  of  lan2;uao;c"  that  the  rider  has  of  a 
horse  which  runs  away  with  him. 

If,  indeed,  any  class  of  men  are  found  to  be  the  most  effect- 


272  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

ually  convincedj  persuaded,  or  instriicted,  by  a  turgid  amplifi- 
cation, it  is  the  orator's  business,  true  to  his  object,  not  to 
criticize  or  seek  to  improve  their  taste,  but  to  accommodate 
himself  to  it.  But  it  will  be  found  that  this  is  not  near  so 
often  the  case  as  many  suppose.  The  orator  may  often  by 
this  kind  of  style  gain  great  admiration,  without  being  the 
nearer  to  his  proper  end,  which  is  to  carry  his  point.  It  will 
frequently  happen  that  not  only  the  approbation,  but  the 
whole  attention  of  the  hearers  will  have  been  confined  to  the 
style,  which  will  have  drawn  their  minds,  not  to  the  subject, 
but  from  it.  In  those  spurious  kinds  of  oratory,  indeed, 
which  have  been  above  mentioned,  [Part  III.,  chap,  ii.,  §§  4, 
5,  6,]  in  which  the  inculcation  of  the  subject-matter  is  not 
the  principal  object  proposed,  a  redundancy  of  words  may 
often  be  very  suitable;  but  in  all  that  comes  within  the 
legitimate  province  of  Rhetoric,  there  is  no  faiult  to  be  more 
carefully  avoided.* 

It  will  therefore  be  advisable  for  a  tyro  in  composition  to 
look  over  what  he  has  written,  and  to  strike  out  every  word 
and  clause  which  he  finds  will  leave  the  passage  neither  less 
perspicuous  nor  less  forcible  than  it  was  before:  ^'quamvis 
invita  recedant  ;^^  remembering  that,  as  has  been  aptly  ob- 
served, '^  nobody  else  knows  what  good  things  you  leave  out;'' 

*  "By  a  multiplicity  of  words  the  sentiment  is  not  set  off  and  ac- 
commodated, but  like  David,  in  Saul's  armor,  it  is  encumbered  and 
oppressed. 

"  Yet  this  is  not  the  only,  or  perhaps  the  worst  consequence  re- 
sulting from  this  manner  of  treating  sacred  writ:  \_p araphr using :'\ 
we  are  told  of  the  torpedo  that  it  has  the  wonderful  quality  of 
numbing  every  thing  it  touclies :  a  paraphrase  is  a  torpedo.  By  its 
influence  the  most  vivid  sentiments  become  lifeless,  the  most  sublime 
are  flattened,  the  most  fervid  chilled,  the  most  vigorous  enervated. 
In  the  very  best  compositions  of  this  kind  that  can  be  expected,  the 
(jospel  may  be  compai-ed  to  a  rich  wine  of  a  high  flavor  diluted  in 
such  a  quantity  of  water  as  renders  it  extremely  vapid." — Campbell, 
Rhetoric,  Book  III.,  chap,  ii ,  ^  2. 

It  should  be  observed,  however,  that  in  some  palates  or  stomachs 
a  dilution  may  be  necessary.  Nor  does  Dr.  Campbell  mean,  I  appre- 
hend, that  there  are  not  many  passages  in  Scripture  which  require 
expansion  with  a  view  to  their  being  fully  comprehended  by  an  ordi- 
nary reader.  But  a  regular  paraphrase  generally  expands  every  pas- 
sago,  hard  or  easy,  nearly  to  the  same  degree:  it  applies -a  magnify- 
ing-glass  of  equal  power  to  the  gnat  and  to  the  camel. 


C^.  II.,  §  7.]  STYLE.  273 

\ 

if  llie  general  effect  is  improved,  that  advantage  is  enjoyed 
by  iie  reader,  unalloyed  by  the  regret^  which  the  author  may 
feel  at  the  omission  of  any  thing  which  he  may  think  in  it- 
self excellent. 

But  this  is  not  enough  :  he  must  study  contraction  as  well 
as  oniission.  There  are  many  sentences  which  would  not 
bear  tlic  omission  of  a  single  word  consistently  with  perspi- 
cuity, -Yhich  yet  may  be  much  more  concisely  expressed,  with 
equal  (Clearness,  by  the  employment  of  different  words,  and 
by  rccmting  a  great  part  of  the  expression.  Take  for  ex- 
ample such  a  sentence  as  the  following : 

"A  severe  and  tyrannical  exercise  of  power  must  become  a 
matter  of  necessary  policy  with  kings,  when  their 
subjects  are  imbued  with  such  principles  as  just-  ^°"^P''®ssion. 
ify  and  authorize  rebellion :"  this  sentence  could  not  be  ad- 
vantageously, nor  to  any  considerable  degree,  abridged,  by 
the  mere  omission  of  any  of  the  words ;  but  it  may  be  ex- 
pressed in  a  much  shorter  compass,  with  equal  clearness  and 
far  greater  energy,  thus  :  "  Kings  will  be  tyrants  from  policy, 
when  subjects  are  rebels  from  principle. ''* 

The  hints  I  have  thrown  out  on  this  point  coincide  pretty 
nearly  with  Dr.  Campbell's  remark  on  ''  vevhosity''  as  con- 
tradistinguished from  "  tdutologij"-\  and  from  ^'pleonasm:' 
''The  third  and  last  fault  I  shall  mention  against  vivid  con- 
ciseness is  verbosity.  This,  it  may  be  thought,  coincides  with 
the  pleonasm  already  discussed.  One  difference,  however,  is 
this :  in  the  pleonasm  there  are  words  which  add  nothing  to 
the  sense;  in  the  verbose  manner,  not  only  single  words, "^but 

*  Burke. 

f  Tautology,  whicli  lie  describes  as  "either  a  repetition  of  the 
same  sense  in  different  words,  or  a  representation  of  any  thing  as 
the  cause,  condition,  or  consequence  of  itself,"  is,  in  most  instances, 
(of  the  latter  kind  at  least,)  accounted  an  offence  rather  against  cor- 
rectness than  brevity;  the  example  he  gives  from  Bolingbroke,  "  How 
many  are  there  by  whom  these  tidings  of  good  news  were  never 
heard,"  would  usually  be  reckoned  a  blunder  rather  than  an  instance 
oi prolixity  like  the  expression  of  ''Sinecure  places  which  have  no 
duty  annexed  to  them."  ''The  pleonasm,"  he  observes,  "implies 
merely  superfluity.  Though  the  words  do  not,  as  in  tlie  tautology, 
repeat  the  sense,  they  add  nothing  to  it;  e.  g.  :  They  ret\u'ned  [back 
again]  to  tha  [same]  city  [from]  whence  they  came  [forth]."— 
Campbell's  Rhetoric,  Book  III.,  chap,  ii.,  g  2. 


274  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   HI. 

whole  clauses,  may  have  a  meaning,  and  yet  it  were  better  to 
omit  them,  because  what  they  mean  is  unimportant.  Instead, 
therefore,  of  enlivening  the  expression,  they  make  it  languish. 
Another  difference  is,  that  in  a  proper  pleonasm,  a  complete 
correction  is  always  made  by  razing.  This  will  not  always 
answer  in  the  verbose  style  j  it  is  often  necessary  to  alter  as 
well  as  blot."* 

§8- 

It  is  of  course'  impossible  to  lay  down  precise  rules  as  to 

the  degree  of  conciseness  which  is,  on  each  occa- 

to^be  recon-     sion  that  may  arise,  allowable  and  desirable ;  but 

eiied  with         ^0  an  author  who  is,  in  his  expression  of  any  sen- 

perspicuity.       , .  ,  .         ,  \  ,  i         i  i        x- 

timent,  wavenng  between  the  demands  oi  per- 
spicuity and  of  energy,  (of  which  the  former  of  course  re- 
quires the  first  care,  lest  he  should  fail  of  both,)  and  doubt- 
ing whether  the  phrase  which  has  the  most  of  forcible  brevity 
will  be  readily  taken  in,  it  may  be  recommended  to  use  both 
expressions — first  to  expand  the  sense,  sufficiently  to  be 
clearly  understood,  and  then  to  contract  it  into  the  most 
compendious  and  striking  form.  This  expedient  might  seem 
at  first  sight  the  most  decidedly  adverse  to  the  brevity  recom- 
mended ;  but  it  will  be  found,  in  practice,  that  the  addition 
of  a  compressed  and  pithy  expression  of  the  sentiment,  which 
has  been  already  stated  at  greater  length,  will  produce  the 
effect  of  brevity.  For  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  it  is  not 
on  account  of  the  actual  number  of  words  that  diffuseness  is 
to  be  condemned,  (unless  one  were  limited  to  a  certain  space, 
or  time,)  but  to  avoid  the  flatness  and  tediousness  resulting 
from  it  ]  so  that  if  this  appearance  can  be  obviated  by  the  in- 
sertion of  such  an  abridged  repetition  as  is  here  recom- 
mended, which  adds  poignancy  and  spirit  to  the  whole,  con- 
ciseness will  be,  practically,  promoted  by  the  addition.  The 
hearers  will  be  struck  by  the  forcibleness  of  the  sentence 
which  they  will  have  been  prepared  to  comprehend;  they 
will  understand,  the  longer  expression,  and  remember  the 
shorter.  But  the  force  will,  in  general,  be  totally  destroyed, 
or  much  enfeebled,  if  the  order  be  reversed — if  the  brief  ex- 
pression be  first  put,  and  afterwards  expanded  and  explained ; 
for  it  loses* much  of  its  force  if  it  be  not  clearly  understood 

^  Campbell,  Rhetoric,  Book  III.,  chap,  ii.,  §  2,  Part  III. 


CHi  II.,  §  8.]  STYLE.  275 

the  moment  it  is  uttered ;  and  if  it  be,  there  is  no  need  of 
the  subsequent  expansion.     The  sentence  recently  quoted 
from  Burke,  as  an  instance  of  energetic  brevity,  is  in  this 
manner  brought  in  at  the  close  of  a  more  expanded  exhibi- 
tion of  the   sentiment,  as  a   condensed    conclusion    of  the 
whole  J  "Power,  of  some  kind  or  other,  will   survive  the 
shock  in  which  manners  and  opinions  perish ;  and  it  will  find 
other  and  worse  means   for  its   support.      The   usurpation 
which,  in  order  to  subvert  ancient  institutions,  has  destroyed 
ancient  principles,  will  hold  power  by  arts  similar  to  those  by 
which  it  has  acquired  it.    When  the  old  feudal  and  chivalrous 
spirit  oi  fealty^  which,  by  freeing  kings  from  fear,  freed  both 
kings  and  subjects  from  the  precaution  of  tyranny,  shall  be 
extinct  in  the  minds  of  men,  plots  and  assassinations  will  be 
anticipated  by  preventive  murder  and  preventive  confiscation, 
and  that  long  roll  of  grim  and  bloody  maxims  which  form 
the  political  code  of  all  power  not  standing  on  its  own  honor, 
and  the  honor  of  those  who  are  to  obey  it.     Kings  will  be 
tyrants  fi'om  policy,  when  subjects   are   rebels    from   prin- 
ciple."* 

The  same  writer,  in  another  passage  of  the  same  work,  has 
a  paragraph  in  like  manner  closed  and  summed  up  by  a  strik- 
ing metaphor,  (which  will  often  prove  the  most  concise,  as 
well  as  in  other  respects  striking,  form  of  expression,)  such 
as  would  not  have  been  so  readily  taken  in  if  placed  at  the 
beginning:  "To  avoid,  therefore,  the  evils  of  inconstancy 
and  versatility,  ten  thousand  times  worse  than  those  of  ob- 
stinacy and  the  blindest  prejudice,  we  have  consecrated  the 
state,  that  no  man  should  approach  to  look  into  its  defects  or 
corruptions  but  with  due  caution ;  that  he  should  never  dream 
of  beginning  its  reformation  by  its  subversion  ;  that  he  should 
approach  to  the  faults  of  the  state  as  to  the  wounds  of  a 
father,  with  pious  awe  and  trembling  solicitude.  By  this 
wise  prejudice  we  are  taught  to  look' with  horror  on  those 
children  of  their  country  wfio  are  prompt  rashly  to  hack  that 
aged  parent  in  pieces,  and  put  him  into  the  kettle  of  ma- 
gicians, in  hopes  that,  by  their  poisonous  weeds  and  wild  in- 

^  Burke,  "Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France,"  Works,  vol. 
v.,  p.  153.  The  reader  will  please  to  observe  that  I  do  not  pledge 
myself  to  an  approval  of  his  opinions.  I  am  at  present  concerned 
only  with  his  style. 


276  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART  III. 

cantations,  they  may  regenerate  the  paternal  constitution,  and 
renovate  their  father's  iife/^* 

This,  however,  being  an  instance  of  what  may  be  called  the 
classical  metaphor,  no  preparation  or  explanation,  even  though 
sufl&cient  to  make  it  intelligihle,  could  render  it  very  striking 
to  those  not  thoroughly  and  early  familiar  with  the  ancient 
fables  of  Medea. 

The  preacher  has  a  considerable  resource,  of  an  analogous 
kind,  in  similar  allusions  to  the  history,  descriptions,  parables, 
etc.,  of  Scripture )  which  will  often  furnish  useful  illustra- 
tions and  forcible  metaphors,  in  an  address  to  those  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  Bible ;  though  these  would  be  frequently 
unintelligible,  and  always  comparatively  feeble,  to  persons 
not  familiar  with  Scripture.^ 

So  great,  indeed,  is  the  elfect  of  a  skilful  interspersion  of 
short,  pointed,  forcible  sentences,  that  even  a  considerable 
violation  of  some  of  the  foregoing  rules  may  be,  by  this 
means,  in  a  great  degree,  concealed ;  and  vigor  may  thus  be 
communicated  (if  vigor  of  thought  be  not  wanting)  to  a  style 
chargeable  even  with  tautology.  This  is  the  case 
D?johnson.  "^i^^  much  of  the  language  of  Dr.  Johnson,  who 
is  certainly  on  the  whole  an  energetic  writer^ 
though  he  would  have  been  much  more  so,  had  not  an  over- 
attention  to  the  roundness  and  majestic  sound  of  his  sen- 
tences, and  a  delight  in  balancing  one  clause  against  another, 
led  him  so  frequently  into  a  faulty  redundancy.  Take,  as  an 
instance,  a  passage  in  his  life  of  Prior,  which  may  be  con- 
sidered as  a  favorable  specimen  of  his  style  :  "  '  Solomon'  is 
the  work  to  which  he  intrusted  the  protection  of  his  name, 
and  which  he  expected  succeeding  ages  to  regard  with  vene- 
ration. His  affection  was  natural ;  it  had  undoubtedly  been 
written  with  great  labor ;  and  who  is  willing  to  think  that  he 
has  been  laboring  in  vain  ?  He  had  infused  into  it  much 
knowledge,  and  much  thought;  and  often  polished  it  to 
elegance,  often  dignified  it  wit^  splendor,  and  sometimes 
heightened  it  to  suhlimity ;  he  perceived  in  it  many  excel- 
lences, and  did  not  discover  that  it  wanted  that  without  which 


*  Burke,  "Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France,"  Works,  vol. 
v.,  p.  183. 

f  See  Appendix,  [M.] 


CH.  II.,  §  8.]  STYLE.  277 

all  others  are  of  small  avail,  the  power  of  engaging  attention 
and  alluring  curiosity.  Tediousness-is  the  most  fatal  of  all 
accidents ;  negligences  or  errors  arc  single  or  local ;  but  tedi- 
ousness  pervades  the  whole ;  other  faults  are  censured  and 
forgotten,  but  the  power  of  tediousness  propagates  itself.  He 
that  is  weary  the  first  hour,  fs  more  weary  the  second ;  as 
bodies  forced  into  motion  contrary  to  their  tendency,  pass 
more  and  more  slowly  through  every  successive  interval  of 
space.  Unhappily,  this  pernicious  failure  is  that  which  an 
author  is  least  able  to  discover.  We  are  seldom  tiresome  to 
ourselves ;  and  the  act  of  composition  fills  and  delights  the 
mind  with  change  of  language  and  succession  of  images : 
every  couplet  when  produced  is  new ;  and  novelty  is  the  great 
source  of  pleasure.  Perhaps  no  man  *ever  thought  a  line 
superfluous  when  he  first  wrote  it ;  or  contracted  his  work 
till  his  ebullitions  of  invention  had  subsided.^' 

It  would  not  have  been  just  to  the  author,  nor  even  so 
suitable  to  the  present  purpose,  to  cite  less  than  the  whole  of 
this  passage,  which  exhibits  the  characteristic  merits,  even 
more  strikingly  than  the  defects,  of  the  writer.  Few  could 
be  found  in  the  works  of  Johnson,  and  still  fewer  in  those  of 
any  other  writer,  more  happily  and  forcibly  expressed ',  yet 
it  can  hardly  be  denied  that  the  parts  here  distinguished  by 
italics  are  chargeable,  more  or  less,  with  tautology. 

It  happens,  unfortunately,  that  Johnson's  style  is  particu- 
larly easy  of  imitation,  even  by  writers  utterly 
destitute  of  his  vigor  of  thought ;  and  such  imi-  jSirfson! 
tators  are  intolerable.  They  bear  the  same  re- 
semblance to  their  model,  that  the  armor  of  the  Chinese,  as 
described  by  travellers,  consisting  of  thick  quilted  cotton 
covered  with  stift'  glazed  paper,  does  to  that  of  the  ancient 
knights :  equally  glittering  and  bulky,  but  destitute  of  the 
temper  and  firmness  which  was  its  sole  advantage.  At  first 
sight,  indeed,  this  kind  of  style  appears  far  from  easy  of 
attainment,  on  account  of  its  being  remote  from  the  collo- 
quial, and  having  an  elaborately  artificial  appearance ;  but, 
in  reality,  there  is  none  less  difficult  to  acquire.  To  string 
together  substantives,  connected  by  conjunctions,  which  is 
the  characteristic  of  Johnson's  style,  is,  in  fact,  the  rudest 
and  clumsiest  mode  of  expressing  oui:  thoughts :  we  have 
only  to  find  names  for  our  ideas,  and  then  put  them  together 


278  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

by  connectives,  instead  of  interweaving,  or  rather  felting 
them  together,  by  a  due  admixture  of  verbs,  participles,  pre- 
positions, etc.  So  that  this  way  of  writing,  as  contrasted 
with  the  other,  may  be  likened  to  the  primitive  rude  car- 
pentry, in  which  the  materials  were  united  by  coarse  external 
implements,  pins,  nails,  and  cramps,  when  compared  with 
that  art  in  its  most  improved  state,  after  the  invention  of 
dove-tail-joints,  grooves,  and  mortices,  when  the  junctions  are 
effected  by  forming  properly  the  extremities  of  the  pieces  to 
be  joined,  so  as  at  once  to  consolidate  and  conceal  the 
juncture. 

If  any  one  will  be  at  the  pains  to  compare  a  few  pages, 

taken  from  almost  any  part  of  Johnson's  Works, 

Various  pro-     ^jj^jj  \)^q  same  Quantitv  from  any  other  of  our  ad- 

portions  of  .  .  ■i.*',  ,,■'  ,  r»7 

substantives  mired  writers,  noting  down  the  number  oi  %uo- 
stytes!^^^^'  ^tantiveB  in  each,  he  will  be  struck  with  the  dis- 
proportion. This  would  be  still  greater,  if  he 
were  to  examine  with  the  same  view  an  equal  portion  of 
Cicero;  but  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  genius  of  the 
Latin  language  allows  and  requires  a  much  smaller  propor- 
tion of  substantives  than  are  necessary  in  our  own ;  especially 
such  as  express  qualities  in  the  abstract. 

§9- 

In  aiming  at  a  concise  style,  however,  care  must  of  course 
be  taken  that  it  be  not  crowded.  The  frequent 
ft^fP^*^^^^  recurrence  of  considerable  ellipses,  even  when 
obscurity  does  not  result  from  them,  will  pro- 
duce an  appearance  of  affected  and  laborious  compression, 
which  is  offensive.  The  author  who  is  studious  of  energetic 
brevity,  should  aim  at  what  may  be  called  a  suggestive  style  ] 
such,  that  is,  as,  without  making  a  distinct,  though  brief, 
mention  of  a  multitude  of  particulars,  shall  put  the  hearer's 
mind  into  the  same  train  of  tliouglit  as  the  speaker's,  and 
suggest  to  him  more  than  is  actually  expressed. 

Such  a  style  may  be  compared  to  a  good  map,  which  marks 
distinctly  the  great  outlines,  setting  down  the  principal  rivers, 
towns,  mountains,  etc.,  leaving  the  imagination  to  supply  the 
villages,  hillocks,  and  streamlets ;  which,  if  they  were  all  in- 
serted in  their  due  proportions,  would  crowd  the  map,  though 
after  all  they  could  not  be  discerned  without  a  microscope. 


CH.  II.,  §  10.]  STYLE.  279 

Aristotle's  style,  which  is  frequently  so  elliptical  as  to  be 
dry  and  obscure,  is  yet  often,  at  the  very  same  time,  unneces- 
sarily diffuse,  from  his  enumerating  much  that  the  reader 
would  easily  have  supplied,  if  the  rest  had  been  fully  and 
forcibly  stated.  He  seems  to  have  regarded  his  readers 
as  capable  of  going  along  with  him  readily,  in  the  deepest 
discussions,  but  not  of  going  heyond  him,  in  the  most  simple; 
i.  e.,  of  filling  up  his  meaning,  and  inferring  what  he  does 
not  actually  express  ]  so  that  in  many  passages  a  free  trans- 
lator might  convey  his  sense  in  a  shorter  compass,  and  yet  in 
a  less  cramped  and  elliptical  diction. 

A  particular  statement,  example,  or  proverb,  of  which  the 
general  application  is  obvious,  will  often  save  a  long  abstract 
rule,  which  needs  much  explanation  and  limitation ;  and  will 
thus  suggest  much  that  is  not  actually  said ;  thus  answering 
the  purpose  of  a  mathematical  diagram,  which,  though  itself 
an  individual,  serves  as  a  representative  of  a  class.  Slight 
hints  also  respecting  the  subordinate  branches  of  any  subject, 
and  notices  of  the  principles  that  will  apply  to  them,  etc., 
may  often  be  substituted  for  digressive  discussions,  which, 
though  laboriously  compressed,  would  yet  occupy  a  much 
greater  space.  Judicious  divisions  likewise  and  classifications 
save  much  tedious  enumeration;  and,  as  has  been  formerly 
remarked,  a  well-chosen  epithet  may  often  suggest,  and  there- 
fore supply  the  place  of,  an  entire  argument. 

It  would  not  be  possible,  within  a  moderate  compass,  to  lay 
down  precise  rules  for  the  suggestive  kind  of  writing  I  am 
speaking  of;  but  if  the  slight  hints  here  given  are  sufficient 
to  convey  an  idea  of  the  object  to  be  aimed  at,  practice  will 
enable  a  writer  gradually  to  form  the  habit  recommended.  It 
may  be  worth  while,  however,  to  add,  that  those  accustomed 
to  rational  conversation,  will  find  in  that  a  very  useful  exer- 
cise, with  a  view  to  this  point,  (as  well  as  to  almost  every 
other  connected  with  Khetoric ;)  since,  in  conversation,  a  man 
naturally  tries  first  one  and  then  another  mode  of  conveying 
his  thoughts,  and  stops  as  soon  as  he  perceives  that  his  com- 
panion fully  comprehends  his  sentiments,  and  is  sufficiently 
impressed  with  them. 

§10. 
I  have  dwelt  the  more  earnestly  on  the  head  of  concise- 


280  ELEMENTS   Or   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

ness,  because  it  is  a  quality  in  which  young  writers  (who  are 
the  most  likely  to  seek  for  practical  benefit  in  a  treatise  of 
this  kind)  are  usually  most  deficient ;  and  because  it  is  com- 
monly said  that,  in  them,  exuberance  is  a  promising  sign ; 
without  sufficient  care  being  taken  to  qualify  this  remark,  by 
adding,  that  this  over-luxuriance  must  be  checked  by  judi- 
cious pruning.  If  an  early  proneness  to  redundancy  be  an 
indication  of  natural  genius,  those  who  possess  this  genius 
should  be  the  more  sedulously  on  their  guard  against  that 
fault.  And  those  who  do  not,  should  be  admonished  that  the 
want  of  a  natural  gift  cannot  be  supplied  by  copying  its 
attendant  defects. 

The  praises  which  have  been  bestowed  on  copiousness  of 
Copiousness  <iiction  have  probably  tended  to  mislead  authors 
dependent  into  a  cumbrous  verbosity.  It  should  be  re- 
on  precision,  jj^embcred  that  there  is  no  real  copiousness  in  a 
muhltude  of  synonyms  and  circumlocutions.  A  house  would 
not  be  the  better  furnished  for  being  stored  with  ten  times  as 
many  of  some  kinds  of  articles  as  were  needed,  while  it  was 
perhaps  destitute  of  those  required  for  other  purposes )  nor 
was  Lucullus's  wardrobe,  which,  according  to  Horace,  boasted 
five  thousand  mantles,  necessarily  well  stocked,  if  other 
articles  of  dress  were  wanting.  The  completeness  of  a 
library  does  not  consist  in  the  number  of  volumes,  especially 
if  many  of  them  are  duplicates  ;  but  in  its  containing  copies 
of  each  of  the  most  valuable  works.  And,  in  like  manner, 
true  copiousness  of  language  consists  in  having  at  command, 
as  far  as  possible,  a  suitable  expression  for  each  different 
modification  of  thought.  This,  consequently,  will  often  save 
much  circumlocution;  so  that  the  greater  our  command  of 
language,  the  more  concisely  we  shall  be  enabled  to  write. 

In  an  author  who  is  attentive  to  these  principles,  diffuse- 
ness  may  be  accounted  no  dangerous  fault  of  style,  because 
practice  will  gradually  correct  it;  but  it  is  otherwise  with 
one  who  pleases  himself  in  stringing  together  well-sounding 
words  into  an  easy,  flowing,  and  (falsely  called)  copious  style, 
destitute  of  nerve ;  and  who  is  satisfied  with  a  small  portion 
of  matter ;  seeking  to  increase,  as  it  were,  the  appearance  of 
his  wealth  by  hammering  out  his  metal  thin.  This  is  far  from 
a  curable  fault.  When  the  style  is  fully  formed  in  other 
respects,  pregnant  fulness  of  meaning  is  seldom  superadded ; 


CH.  II.,  §  11.]  STYLE.  281 

but  when  there  is  a  basis  of  energetic  condensation  of 
thought,  the  faults  of  harshness,  baldness,  or  even  obscurity, 
are  much  more  likely  to  be  remedied.  Solid  gold  may  be 
new-moulded  and  polished;  but  what  can  give  solidity  to 
gilding  ? 

§  11. 

Lastly,  the  arrangement  of  words  may  be  made  highly  con- 
ducive to  energy.     The  importance  of  an  atten- 
tion to  this  point,  with  a  view  to  perspicuity,  has     pjl^df  Jt  on 
been  already  noticed ;  but  of  two  sentences  equally     *^^^  arrange- 
perspicuous,   and    consisting   of  the    very  same 
words,  the  one  may  be  a  feeble  and  languid,  the  other  a 
striking  and  energetic  expression,  merely  from  the  difference 
of  arrangement. 

Some,  among  the  moderns,  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  the 
natural  order  of  the  words  in  a  sentence,  and  to 
consider,  each,  the  established  arrangement  of  o/^ord?^^^^ 
his  own  language  as  the  nearest  to  such  a  natural 
order ;  regarding  that  which  prevails  in  Latin  and  in  Greek 
as  a  sort  of  deranged  and  irregular  structure.  We  are  apt 
to  consider  that  as  most  natural  and  intrinsically  proper, 
which  is  the  most  familiar  to  ourselves )  but  there  seems  no 
good  ground  for  asserting  that  the  customary  structure  of 
sentences  in  the  ancient  languages  is  less  natural,  or  less 
suitable  for  the  purposes  for  which  language  is  employed, 
than  in  the  modern.  Supposing  the  established  order  in 
English  or  in  French,  for  instance,  to  be  more  closely  con- 
formed to  the  grammatical  or  logical  analysis  of  a  sentence 
than  that  of  Latin  or  Greek,  because  we  place  the  subject 
first,  the  copula  next,  and  the  predicate  last,  etc.,  it  does  not 
follow  that  such  an  arrangement  is  necessarily  the  best  fitted, 
in  every  case,  to  excite  the  attention,  to  direct  it  to  the  most 
essential  points,  to  gratify  the  imagination,  or  to  affect  the 
feelings.  It  is,  surely,  the  natural  object  of  language  to  ex- 
press as  strongly  as  possible  the  speaker's  sentiments,  and  to 
convey  the  same  to  the  hearers ;  and  that  arrangement  of 
words  may  fairly  be  accounted  the  most  natural,  by  which  all 
men  are  naturally  led,  as  far  as  the  rules  of  their  respective 
languages  allow  them,  to  accomplish  this  object.  The  rules 
of  many  of  the  modern  languages  do  indeed  frequently  con- 


282  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

fine  an  author  to  an  order  which  he  would  otherwise  never 
have  chosen ;  but  what  translator  of  any  taste  would  ever 
voluntarily  alter  the  arrangement  of  the  words  in  such  a 
sentence  as,  MeydXi]  ?/  "AprefiLg  'F>(()solg)v,  which  our  lan- 
guage allows  us  to  render  exactly,  ^'  Great  is  Diana  of  the 
Ephesians !"  How  feeble  in  comparison  is  the  translation 
of  Le  Clerc,  ^'La  Diane  des  Epliesiens  est  une  grande 
Diesse!^'  How  imperfect  that  of  Beausobre,  "La  grande 
Diane  des  Ephesiens  !"  How  undignified  that  of  Saci,  "  Vive 
la  granule  Diane  des  Ephesiens  !'' 

Our  language  indeed  is,  though  to  a  less  degree,  very  much 
hampered  by  the  same  restrictions;  it  being  in 
poinTof  iV^  general  necessary,  for  the  expression  of  the  sense, 
rangement  in  to  adhere  to  an  Order  which  may  not  be  in  other 
language?.*  respects  the  most  eligible  :  "  Cicero  praised  Cae- 
sar," and  ^'Caesar  praised  Cicero,"  would  be  two 
very  difi'erent  propositions ;  the  situation  of  the  words  being 
all  that  indicates  (from  our  want  of  cases')  ivhich  is  to  be 
taken  as  the  nominative,  and  which  as  the  accusative ;  but 
such  a  restriction  is  far  from  being  an  advantage.  The  trans- 
position of  words  which  the  ancient  languages  admit  of,  con- 
duces, not  merely  to  a  variety,  but  to  energy,  and  even  to 
precision. 

If,  for  instance,  a  Roman  had  been  directing  the  attention 
of  his  hearers  to  the  circumstance  that  even  Cmsar  had  been 
the  object  of  Cicero's  praise,  he  would,  most  likely,  have  put 
'^Cassarem"  first;  but  he  would  have  put  '' Cicero"  first  if 
he  had  been  remarking  that  not  only  others,  but  even  lie  had 
praised  Caesar.* 

It  is  for  want  of  this  liberty  of  arrangement  that  we  are 
often  compelled  to  mark  the  emphatic  words  of 
wor§s.^*^°  our  sentences,  by  the  voice  in  speaking,  and  by 
italics  in  writing;  which  would,  in  Greek  or  in 
Latin,  be  plainly  indicated,  in  most  instances,  by  the  colloca- 
tion alone.  The  sentence  which  has  been  often  brought  for- 
ward as  an  example  of  the  varieties  of  expression  which 
may  be  given  to  the  same  words,  "  Will  you  ride  to  London 
to-morrow  V  and  which  may  be  pronounced  and  understood 
in  at  least  five  different  ways,  according  as  the  first,  second, 

*  See  Logic,  Book  II.,  chap,  iv.,  $  1. 


CH.  II.,  §  11.]  STYLE.  283 

etc.,  of  tlie  words  is  printed  in  italics,  would  be,  by  a  Latin 
or  Greek  writer,  arranged  in  as  many  different  orders,  to 
answer  these  several  intentions.  The  advantage  thus  gained 
must  be  evident  to  any  one  who  considers  how  important  the 
object  is  which  is  thus  accomplished,  and  for  the  sake  of 
which  we  are  often  compelled  to  resort  to  such  clumsy  expe- 
dients :  it  is  like  the  proper  distribution  of  the  lights  in  a 
picture ;  which  is  hardly  of  less  consequence  than  the  cor- 
rect and  lively  representation  of  the  objects. 

The  4th  book  of  Q.  Curtius  begins  with  a  passage  which 
affords  a  good  instance  of  the  energetic  effect  produced  by  a 
skilful  use  of  the  license  of  the  Latin  arrangement:  ''Darius 
tanti  modo  exercitus  rex,  qui  triumphantis  magis  quam 
dimicantis  more,  curru  sublimis  inierat  prsclium,  per  loca 
qua3  prope  immensis  agminibus  compleverat,  jam  inania,  et 
ingenti  solitudine  vasta,  fugiehat."  The  effect  of  the  con- 
cluding verb,  placed  where  it  is,  is  most  striking. 

It  must  be  the  aim  then  of  an  author,  who  would  write 
with  energy,  to  avail  himself  of  all  the  liberty 
which  our  language  does  allow,  so  to  arrange  un^'erscodne. 
his  words  that  there  shall  be  the  least  possible 
occasion  for  underscoring  and  italics ;  and  this,  of  course, 
must  be  more  carefully  attended  to  by  the  writer  than  by  the 
speaker;  who  may,  by  his  mode  of  utterance,  conceal,  in 
great  measure,  a  defect  in  this  point.  It  may  be  worth  ob- 
serving, however,  that  some  writers,  having  been  taught  that 
it  is  a  fault  of  style  to  require  many  of  the  words  to  be  in 
italics,  fancy  they  avoid  the  fault  by  omitting  those  indica- 
tions where  they  are  really  needed  j  which  is  no  less  absurd 
than  to  attempt  remedying  the  intricacies  of  a  road  by  re- 
moving the  direction-posts.*  The  proper  remedy  is,  to  en- 
deavor so  to  construct  the  style,  that  the  collocation  of  the 
words  may,  as  far  as  is  possible,  direct  the  attention  to  those 
which  are  emphatic. 

And  the  general  maxim  that  should  chiefly  guide  us  is,  as 
Dr.   Campbell   observes,  the  homely  saying,   "Nearest  the 

*  The  censure  of  frequent  and  long  parentheses  also  leads  some 
writers  into  the  like  preposterous  expedient  of  leaving  out  the  marks 
(  )  by  which  they  are  indicated,  and  substituting  commas ;  instead 
of  so  framing  each  sentence  that  they  shall  not  be  needed.  It  is  no 
cure  to  a  lame  man  bo  take  away  his  crutches. 


284  ELExAIENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

heart,  nearest  the  moutli :"  the  idea  which  is  the  most  forci- 
bly impressed  on  the  author's  mind  will  naturally  claim  the 
first  utterance,  as  nearly  as  the  rules  of  the  language  will 
permit.  And  it  will  be  found  that,  in  a  majority  of  instances, 
the  most  emphatic  word  will  be  the  predicate ;  contrary  to 
the  rule  which  the  nature  of  our  language  compels  us,  in 
most  instances,  to  observe.  It  will  often  happen,  however, 
that  we  do  place  the  predicate  first,  and  obtain  a  great  increase 
of  energy  by  this  arrangement.  Of  this  license  our  trans- 
lators of  the  Bible  have,  in  many  instances,  very  happily 
availed  themselves ;  as,  e.  g.,  in  the  sentence  lately  cited,  ^ 
^'  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians ;"  so  also,  ^'  Blessed  is  he 
that  Cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  ;'^  it  is  evident  how 
much  this  would  be  enfeebled  by  altering  the  arrangement 
into  "  He  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  is  blessed." 
And,  again,  "  Silver  and  gold  have  I  none ;  but  what  I  have, 
that  give  I  unto  thee."*  Another  passage,  in  which  they 
might  advantageously  have  adhered  to  the  order  of  the 
original,  is,  "  "ETrecrgv,  eireae  BajSvXdv,  7]  jit£yaA?//'f  which 
would  certainly  have  been  rendered  as  correctly,  and  more 
forcibly,  as  well  as  more  closely,  "  Fallen,  fallen  is  Babylon, 
that  great  city,"  than,  ''  Babylon  is  fallen,  is  fallen." 

The  word  ''IT"  is  frequently  very  serviceable  in  enabling 

us  to  alter  the  arrangement :  thus^  the  sentence, 
word  "  it;'       ''  Cicero  praised  Cassar,"  which  admits  of  at  least 

two  modifications  of  sense,  may  be  altered  so  as 
to  express  either  of  them,  by  thus  varying  the  order :  "  It 
was  Cicero  that  praised  Caesar,"  or,  ''  It  was  Caesar  that  Cicero 
praised."  "  IT"  is,  in  this  mode  of  using  it,  the  represen- 
tative of  the  subject,  which  it  thus  enables  us  to  place,  if  we 
will,  after  the  predicate. 

Of  whatever  gender  or  number  the  subject  referred  to  may 
be,  "  IT"  may,  with  equal  propriety,  be  employed  to  represent 
that  subject.  Our  translators  of  the  Bible  have  not  scrupled 
to  make  "IT"  refer  to  a  mascidine  noun:  "It  is  I,  be  not 
afraid '/'  but  they  seem  to  have  thought  it  not  allowable,  as 
perhaps  it  was  not,  at  the  time  when  they  wrote,  to  make 
such  a  reference  to  a  plural  noun.     "  Search  the  Scriptures — 


*  Acts  iii.  6.  f  Rev.  xviii.  2. 


CH.  II.,  §  12.]  STYLE.  285 

they  are  they  which  testify  of  me :"   we  should  now  say, 
without  any  impropriety,  "ii!  is  they,''  etc. 

§12. 

With  respect  to  periods,  it  would  be  neither  practically 
useful,  nor  even  suitable  to  the  present  object,  to  p   •  ^ 

enter  into  an  examination  of  the  different  senses 
in  which  various  authors  have  employed  the  word.  A  tech- 
nical term  may  allowably  be  employed,  in  a  scientific  work, 
in  any  sense  not  very  remote  from  common  usage,  (especially 
when  common  usage  is  not  uniform  and  invariable  in  the  mean- 
ing affixed  to  it,)  provided  it  be  clearly  defined,  and  the 
definition  strictly  adhered  to. 

By  a  period,  then,  is  to  be  understood,  in  this  place,  any 
sentence,  whether  simple  or  complex,  which  is  so  framed  that 
the  grammatical  construction  will  not  admit  of  a  close  be- 
fore the  end  of  it ;  in  which,  in  short,  the  meaning  remains 
suspended,  as  it  were,  till  the  whole  is  finished.  A  loose  sen- 
tence, on  the  contrary,  is  any  that  is  not  a  period ; 
any  whose  construction  will  allow  of  a  stop,  so  as  sentences, 
to  form  a  perfect  sentence,  at  one  or  more  places 
before  we  arrive  at  the  end.  E.  g. :  "  We  came  to  our 
journey's  end — at  last — ^with  no  small  difficulty — after  much 
fatigue — through  deep  roads — and  bad  weather."  This  is 
an  instance  of  a  very  loose  sentence ;  (for  it  is  evident  that 
this  kind  of  structure  admits  of  degrees ;)  there  being  no  less 
than  five  places  marked  by  dashes,  at  any  one  of  which  the 
sentence  might  have  terminated,  so  as  to  be  grammatically 
perfect.  The  same  words  may  be  formed  into  a  period,  thus  : 
"At  last,  after  much  fatigue,  through  deep  roads,  and  bad 
weather,  we  came,  with  no  small  difficulty,  to  our  journey's 
end."  Here  no  stop  can  be  made  at  any  part,  so  that  the 
preceding  words  shall  form  a  sentence  before  the  final  close. 
These  are  both  of  them  simple  sentences;  i.  e.,  not  consisting 
of  several  clauses,  but  having  only  a  single  verb ;  so  that  it 
is  plain  we  ought  not,  according  to  this  view,  to  confine  the 
name  of  period  to  complex  sentences ',  as  Dr.  Campbell  has 
done,  notwithstanding  his  having  adopted  the  same  definition 
as  has  been  here  laid  down. 

Periods,  or  sentences  nearly  approaching  to  periods,  have 
certainly,  when  other  things  are  equal,  the  advantage  in  point 


286  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

of  energy.  An  unexpected  continuation  of  a  sentence  which 
Periods  *^®  reader  liad  supposed  to  be  concluded,  es- 

eonduceto  pecially  if,  in  reading  aloud,  he  had,  under  that 
energy.  supposition,  dropped  his  voice,  is   apt   to   pro- 

duce a  sensation  in  the  mind  of  being  disagreeably  balked  c 
analogous  to  the  unpleasant  jar  which  is  felt  when,  in  ascend- 
ing or  descending  stairs,  we  meet  with  a  step  more  than  we 
expected ;  and  if  this  be  often  repeated,  as  in  a  very  loose 
sentence,  a  kind  of  weary  impatience  results  from  the  uncer- 
tainty when  the  sentence  is  to  close.  The  objection,  however, 
to  loose  sentences,  and  consequent  tendency  towards  the 
periodic  structure,  must  have  been  greater  among  the  ancients 
than  the  moderns  ;  because  the  variety  of  arrangement  which 
the  ancient  languages  permitted,  and,  in  particular,  the  liberty 
of  reserving  the  verh^  on  which  the  whole  sense  depends,  to 
the  end,  made  that  structure  natural  and  easy,  in  many  in- 
stances in  which,  in  our  language,  it  would  appear  forced, 
unnatural,  and  affected. 

But  the  agreeableness  of  a  certain  degree,  at  least,  of 

periodic  structure,  in  all  languages,  is  apparent 

tovvard^^e      from  this :  that  they  all  contain  words  which  may 

periodic  j^g  gr^i(j  ^q  have  no  other  use  or  sisrnification  but 

structure.  titii  pi 

to  suspend  the  sense,  and  lead  the  hearer  oi  the 
first  part  of  the  sentence  to  expect  the  remainder.  He  who 
says,  "  The  world  is  not  eternal,  nor  the  work  of  chance," 
expresses  the  same  sense  as  if  he  said,  ''The  world  is  neither 
eternal,  nor  the  work  of  chance  f  yet  the  latter  would  bo 
generally  preferred.  So  also,  "  The  vines  afforded  both  a 
refreshing  shade  and  a  delicious  fruit ;'^  the  word  ''both'' 
would  be  missed,  though  it  adds  nothing  to  the  sense.  Again, 
"  While  all  the  Pagan  nations  consider  religion  as  one  part 
of  virtue,  the  Jews,  on  the  contrary,  regard  virtue  as  a  part 
of  religion  5"*  the  omission  of  the  first  word  would  not  alter 
the  sense,  but  would  destroy  the  period ;  to  produce  which  is 
its  only  use.  The  MEN,  AE,f  and  TE  of  the  Greek  are,  in 
many  places,  subservient  to  this  use  alone. 

The  modern  languages  do  not  indeed  admit,  as  was  ob- 


■^  Josephus. 

■j-  These  two  particles  seem  to  be  formed  from  [liveiv,  to  "stop — 
wait,"  and  deeiv,  to  "bind — add  on." 


CH.  II.,  §  13.]  STYLE.  287 

served  above,  of  so  periodic  a  style  as  the  ancients  do ;  but 
an  author  who  does  but  clearly  understand  what  a  period  is, 
and  who  applies  the  test  I  have  laid  down,  will  find  it  very 
easy,  after  a  little  practice,  to  compose  in  periods,  even  to  a, 
greater  degree  than,  in  an  English  writer,  good  taste  will 
warrant.  His  skill  and  care  will  be  chiefly  called  for  in 
avoiding  all  appearance  of  stiffness  and  affectation  in  the  con- 
struction of  them ;  in  not  departing,  for  the  sake  of  a  period, 
too  far  from  colloquial  usage ;  and  in  observing  such  mode- 
ration in  the  employment  of  this  style  as  shall  prevent  any 
betrayal  of  artifice — any  thing  savoring  of  elaborate  state- 
liness ;  which  is  always  to  be  regarded  as  a  worse  fault  than 
the  slovenliness  and  languor  which  accompany  a  very  loose 
style. 

§13. 

It  should  be  observed,  however,  that  as  a  sentence  which 
is  not  stricth/  a  period,  accordinc:  to  the  fore^-oinc;        ,  , 

definition,  may  yet  approach  indefinitely  near  to  periodic 
it,  so  as  to  produce  nearly  the  same  effect ;  so,  clauses. 
on  the  other  hand,  periods  may  be  so  constructed  as  to  pro- 
duce much  of  the  same  feeling  of  weariness  and  impatience 
which  results  from  an  excess  of  loose  sentences.  If  the 
clauses  be  very  long,  and  contain  an  enumeration  of  many 
circumstances,  though  the  sentence  be  so  framed  that  we  are 
still  kept  in  expectation  of  the  conclusion,  yet  it  will  be  an 
impatient  expectation,  and  the  reader  will  feel  the  same  kind 
of  uneasy  uncertainty  when  the  clause  is  to  be  finished,  as 
would  be  felt  respecting  the  sentence,  if  it  were  loose.  And 
this  will  especially  be  the  case,  if  the  rule  formerly  given 
with  a  view  to  perspicuity  be  not  observed,*  of  taking  care 
that  each  part  of  the  sentence  be  understood,  as  it  proceeds. 
Each  clause,  if  it  consist  of  several  parts,  should  be  continued 
with  the  same  attention  to  their  mutual  connection,  so  as  to 
suspend  the  sense,  as  is  employed  in  the  whole  sentence^ 
that  it  may  be,  as  it  were,  a  iieriodic  clause.  And  if  one 
clause  be  long  and  another  short,  the  shorter  should,  if  pos- 
sible, be  put  last. 


*  Part  III.,  chap,  i.,  ^  3. 


288  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [PART  III. 

Universally  indeed  a  sentence  will  often  be,  practically,  too 
lono;,  i.  e.,  will  have  a  tedious  drass-ine:  effect, 

Precedence  of         ^'i      n   '       •-  i     -,•  wu  \    i 

the  longer  or    merely  irom  its  concluding  with  a  much  longer 
shorter  clause  than  it  began  with ;  so  that  a  composition 

which  most  would  censure  as  abounding  too  much 
in  long  sentences,  may  often  have  its  defects,  in  great  measure, 
remedied,  without  shortening  any  of  them — merely  by  re- 
versing the  order  of  each.  This  of  course  holds  good  with 
respect  to  all  complex  sentences  of  any  considerable  length, 
whether  periods  or  not.  An  instance  of  the  difference  of 
effect  produced  by  this  means  may  be  seen  in  such  a  sentence 
as  the  following :  "  The  State  was  made,  under  the  pretence 
of  serving  it,  in  reality  the  prize  of  their  contention,  to  each 
of  those  opposite  parties,  who  professed  in  specious  terms, 
the  one  a  preference  for  moderate  aristocracy,  the  other  a 
desire  of  admitting  the  people  at  large  to  an  equality  of  civil 
privileges.'^  This  may  be  regarded  as  a  complete  period ; 
and  yet,  for  the  reason  just  mentioned,  has  a  tedious  and 
cumbrous  effect.  Many  critics  might  recommend,  and  per- 
haps with  reason,  to  break  it  into  two  or  three ;  but  it  is  to  our 
present  purpose  to  remark,  that  it  might  be,  in  some  degree  at 
least,  decidedly  improved  by  merely  reversing  the  clauses ;  as 
thus :  "  The  two  opposite  parties,  who  professed  in  specious 
terms,  the  one  a  preference  for  moderate  aristocracy,  the 
other  a  desire  of  admitting  the  people  at  large  to  an  equality 
of  civil  privileges,  made  the  State,  which  they  pretended  to 
serve,  in  reality  the  prize  of  their  contentions. ''* 

Another  instance  may  be  cited  from  a  work  in  which  any 
occasional  awkwardness  of  expression  is  the  more  conspicuous, 
on  account  of  its  general  excellence — the  Church  Liturgy ; 
the  style  of  which  is  so  justly  admired  for  its  remarkable 
union  of  energy,'  with  simplicity,  smoothness,  and  elegance  : 
the  following  passage  from  the  Exhortation  is  one  of  the  very 
few  which,  from  the  fault  just  noticed,  it  is  difficult  for  a 
good  reader  to  deliver  with  spirit :  "And  although  we  ought 
at  all  times  humbly  to  acknowledge  our  sins  before  God,  ||  yet 
ought  we  most  chiefly  so  to  do,  ||  when  we  assemble — and 
meet  together — to  render  thanks  for  the  great  benefits  that 
we  have  received  at  his  hands — to  set  forth  his  most  worthy 

'  *  Thucydides,  on  the  Corey rean  sedition. 


CH.  IL,  §  13.]  STYLE.  289 

praise,  to  hear  his  most  holy  word,  and  to  ask  those  things 
which  are  requisite  and  necessary — as  well  for  the  body  as 
the  soul."  This  is  evidently  a  very  loose  sentence,  as  it  might 
be  supposed  to  conclude  at  any  one  of  the  three  places  which 
are  marked  by  dashes  ( — )  ;  this  disadvantage,  however,  may 
easily  be  obviated  by  the  suspension  of  voice,  by  which  a 
good  reader,  acquainted  with  the  passage,  would  indicate  that 
the  sentence  was  not  concluded;  but  the  great  fault  is  the 
length  of  the  last  of  the  three  principal  clauses,  in  comparison 
of  the  former  two — (the  conclusions  of  which  are  marked  || ;) 
by  which  a  dragging  and  heavy  effect  is  produced,  and  the 
sentence  is  made  to  appear  longer  than  it  really  is.  This 
would  be  more  manifest  to  any  one  not  familiar,  as  most  are, 
with  the  passage ;  but  a  good  reader  of  the  Liturgy  will  find 
hardly  any  sentence  in  it  so  difficult  to  deliver  to  his  own 
satisfaction.  It  is  perhaps  the  more  profitable  to  notice  a 
blemish  occurring  in  a  composition  so  well  known,  and  so  de- 
.servedly  valued  for  the  excellence,  not  only  of  its  sentiments, 
but  of  its  lansruafi-e. 

It  is  a  useful  admonition  to  young  writers,  with  a  view  to 
what  has  lately  been  said,  that  they  should  always 
attempt  to  recast  a  sentence  which  does  not  please ;  Sentences 
altering  the  arrangement  and  entire  construction 
of  it,  instead  of  merely  seeking  to  change  one  word  for  an- 
other. This  will  give  a  great  advantage  in  point  of  copious- 
ness -also ;  for  there  may  be,  suppose,  a  substaiitive,  which, 
either  because  it  does  not  fully  express  our  meaning,  or  for 
some  other  reason,  we  wish  to  remove,  but  can  find  no  other 
to  supply  its  place;  but  the  object  may  perhaps  be  easily 
accomplished  by  means  of  a  7)erb,  adverb,  or  some  other  part 
of  speech,  the  substitution  of  which  implies  an  alteration  of 
the  construction.  It  is  an  exercise  accordingly  which  may  be 
recommended  as  highly  conducive  to  the  improvement  of 
style,  to  practice  casting  a  sentence  into  a  variety  of  different 
forms. 

It  is  evident,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  in  compositions 
intended  to  be  delivered,  the  periodic  style  is 
much  less   necessary,  and  therefore  much  less   S'netoe^fo^ 
suitable,  than  in  those  designed  for  the  closet,    the  writer 
The  speaker  may,  in  most  instances,  by  the  skilful   gJeVkS. 
suspension  of  his  voice,  give  to  a  loose  sentence 
10 


290  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

the  effect  of  a  period ;  and  though  in  both  species  of  com- 
position the  display  of  art  is  to  be  guarded  against,  a  more 
unstudied  air  is  looked  for  in  such  as  are  spoken. 

The  study  of  the  best  Greek  and  Latin  writers  may  be  of 
great  advantage  towards  the  improvement  of  the  style  in  the 
point  concerning  which  I  have  now  been  treating,  (for  the 
reason  lately  mentioned,)  as  well  as  in  most  others ;  and  there 
is  this  additional  advantage,  (which,  at  first  sight,  might  ap- 
pear a  disadvantage,)  that  the  style  of  a  foreign  writer  cannot 
be  so  close!?/  imitated  as  that  of  one  in  our  own  language : 
for  which  reason  there  will  be  the  less  danger  of  falling  into 
an  obvious  and  sej'vile  imitation.* 

§  14. 
Antithesis  has  been  sometimes  reckoned  as  one  form  of  the 
period ;  but  it  is  evident  that,  according;  to  the 

Antithesis.  •        i  ±  ^  'j.   i  .• 

View  here  taken,  it  ha§  no  necessary  connection 
with  it.  One  clause  may  be  opposed  to  another,  by  means 
of  some  cotitrast  between  corresponding  words  in  each, 
whether  or  not  the  clauses  be  so  connected  that  the  former 
could  not,  by  itself,  be  a  complete  sentence.  Tacitus,  who  is 
one  of  the  most  antithetical,  is  at  the  same  time  one  of  the 
least  periodic,  of  all  the  Latin  writers. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  figure  is  calculated  to  add 
greatly  to  energy.  Every  thing  is  rendered  more  striking  by 
contrast;  and  almost  every  kind  of  subject-matter  affords 
materials  for  contrasted  expressions.  Truth  is  opposed  to 
error ;  wise  conduct  to  foolish ;  different  causes  often  produce 
opposite  effects;  different  circumstances  dictate  to  prudence 
opposite  conduct;  opposite  impressions  may  be  made  by  the 
same  object,  on  different  minds  ;  and  every  extreme  is  opposed 
both  to  the  mean,  and  to  the  other  extreme.  If,  therefore, 
the  language  be  so  constructed  as  to  contrast  together  these 
opposites,  they  throw  light  on  each  other  by  a  kind  of  mutual 
reflection,  and  the  view  thus  presented  will  be  the  more 
striking. 

By  this  means  also  we  may  obtain,  consistently  with  per- 

*  BoHngbroke  may  be  noted  as  one  of  the  most  periodic  of  English 
writers ;  Swift  and  Addison  (though  in  other  respects  very  different 
from  each  other)  are  among  the  most  loose. 


CH.  II.,  §  14.]  STYLE.  291 

spicuitjj  a  much  greater  degree  of  conciseness;  which  in 
itself  is  so  conducive  to  energy:  e.  g.,  ^' When 
reason  is  against  a  man,  he  will  be  against  rea-  Antithesis 
son  ;"*  it  would  be  hardly  possible  to  express  this  conciseness. 
sentiment  not  antithetically,  so  as  to  be  clearly  in- 
telligible, except  in  a  much  longer  sentence.  Again,  "  Words 
are  the  counters  of  wise  men,  and  the  money  of  fools  ;'^  here  we 
have  an  instance  of  the  combined  eifect  of  antithesis  and  meta- 
phor in  producing  increased  energy,  both  directly,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  (by  the  conciseness  resulting  from  them,)  indirectly; 
and  accordingly  in  such  pointed  and  pithy  expressions,  we 
obtain  the  gratification  which,  as  Aristotle  remarks,  results 
from  "  the  act  of  learniyig  quickly  and  easily."  The  anti- 
thetical expression,  ''  Party  is  the  madness  of  many,  for  the 
gain  of  a  few,"  affords  an  instance  of  this  construction  in  a 
sentence  which  does  not  contain  two  distinct  clauses.  So 
also,  "A  proverb  is  the  wisdom  of  many,  and  the  wit  of  one." 
Frequently  the  same  words,  placed  in  different  relations 
with  each  other,  will  stand  in  contrast  to  themselves ;  as  in 
the  expression,  ^^A  fool  with  judges ;  among  fools,  a  judge  j""}" 
and  in  that  given  by  QuinctiliaUj  ^^JSfon  ut  edam  vivo,  scd  ut 
vivam  edo ;"  ^'  I  do  not  live  to  eat,  but  eat  to  live ;"  again, 
^\  Persecution  is  not  wrong  because  it  is  cruel ;  but  it  is  cruel 
because  it  is  wrong ;"  J  and  again,  in  the  beautiful  lines,  from 
the  Arabic,  by  Sir  W.  Jones  : 

On  parent  knees,  a  naked  new-born  child 
Weeping  thou  sat'st,  while  all  around  thee  smiled : 
So  live,  that  sinking  on  thy  last  long  sleep, 
Thou  then  may  smile,  while  all  around  thee  weep. 

All  of  these  are  instances  also  of  perfect  antithesis,  without 
period ;  for  each  of  these  sentences  might,  grammatically,  be 
concluded  in  the  middle.  So  also,  "  It  is  [indeed]  a  just 
maxim,  that  honesty  is  the  best  policy;  but  he  who  is  governed 
by  that  maxim  is  not  an  honest  man."§  This  antithetical 
sentence  is  or  is  not  a  period,  according  as  the  word  "  indeed" 
is  inserted  or  omitted.  Of  the  same  kind  is  an  expression 
in  a  speech  of  Mr.  Wyndham's,  "  Some  contend  that  I  disap- 

*  Hobbes.        f  Cowper.        J  Essays,  3d  Series,  Essay  V.,  §  3. 
§  Essay  I.,  2d  Series. 


292  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

prove  of  this  plan,  because  it  is  not  my  own ;  it  would  be  more 
correct  to  say,  that  it  is  not  my  own,  because  I  disapprove  it."* 
The  use  of  antithesis  has  been  censured  by  some,  as  if  it 
were  a  paltry  and  affected  decoration,  unsuitable  to  a  chaste, 
natural^  and  masculine  style.  Pope,  accordingly,  himself  one 
of  the  most  antithetical  of  our  writers,  speaks  of  it,  in  the 
Dunciad,  with  contempt : 

I  see  a  chief,  who  leads  my  chosen  sons, 
All  armed  with  points,  antitheses,  and  puns. 

The  excess,  indeed,  of  this  style,  by  betraying  artifice, 
effectually  destroys  energy;  and  draws  off  the 
against  attention,  even  of  those  who  are  pleased  with 

antithesis  effeminate  glitter,  from  the  matter  to  the  style. 
But,  as  Dr.  Campbell  observes,  "the  excess  itself 
into  which  some  writers  have  fallen  is  an  evidence  of  its 
value — of  the  lustre  and  emphasis  which  antithesis  is  calcu- 
lated to  give  to  the  expression.  There  is  no  risk  of  intemper- 
ance in  using  a  liquor  which  has  neither  spirit  nor  flavor." 

It  is,  of  course,  impossible  to  lay  down  precise  rules  for 
determining  what  will  amount  to  excess,  in  the  use  of  this  or 
of  any  other  figure :  the  great  safeguard  will  be  the  formation 
of  a  pure  taste,  by  the  study  of  the  most  chaste  writers,  and 
unsparing  self-correction.  But  one  rule  always  to  be  observed 
in  respect  to  the  antithetical  construction,  is  to  remember 
that  in  a  true  antithesis  the  opposition  is  always  in  the  ideas 
expressed.  Some  writers  abound  with  a  kind  of  mock-anti- 
thesis, in  which  the  same  or  nearly  the  same  sentiment  which 
is  expressed  by  the  first  clause  is  repeated  in  a  second ;  or,  at 
least,  in  which  there  is  but  little  of  real  contrast  between  the 
clauses  which  are  expressed  in  a  contrasted  form.  This  kind 
of  style  not  only  produces  disgust  instead  of  pleasure,  when 
once  the  artifice  is  detected,  which  it  soon  must  be,  but  also, 
instead  of  the  brevity  and  vigor  resulting  from  true  antithesis, 
labors  under  the  fault  of  prolixity  and  heaviness.  Sentences 
which  might  have  been  expressed  as  simple  ones,  are  expanded 
into  complex,  by  the  addition  of  clauses,  which  add  little  or 


*  Great  pointedness  and  force  is  added  to  the  argument  from  con- 
traries (Part  I.  chap,  ii.,  §  6)  by  the  antithetical  form  of  expression. 
See  Note  to  Part  IV.,  chap,  iv.,  §  1. 


CH.  IL,  §  14.]  STYLE.  293 

nothing  to  the  sense ;  and  which  have  been  compared  to  the 
false  handles  and  key-holes  with  which  furniture  is  decorated, 
that  serve  no  other  purpose  than  to  correspond  to  the  real  ones. 
Much  of  Dr.  Johnson's  writing  is  chargeable  with  this  fault. 
^  Bacon,  in  his  Khetoric,*  furnishes,  in  his  commonplace, 
(i.  e.,  heads  of  arguments,  pro  and  contra,  on  a  variety  of 
subjects,)  some  admirable  specimens  of  compressed  and  strik- 
ing antitheses  ]  many  of  which  are  worthy  of  being  enrolled 
among  the  most  approved  proverbs:  e.  g.,  ^^He  who  dreads 
new  remedies,  must  abide  old  evils.''  "  Some  things  alter 
for  the  worse  spontaneously :  if  they  be  not  altered  for  the 
better  designedly,  what  end  will  there  be  of  the  evil  ?"  <^  The 
humblest  of  the  virtues  the  vulgar  praise,  the  middle  ones 
they  admire,  of  the  highest  they'have  no  perception :"  etc.f 
It  will  not  unfrequently  happen  that  an  antithesis  may  be 
even  more  happily  expressed  by  the  sacrifice  of         .  ,.,.     . 

,1  •    J    •!?  ii         1  1      *^i  •  -■  Antithesis 

tne  period,  it  the  clauses  are  by  this  means  made  without 
of  a  more  convenient  length,  and  a  resting-place  Period. 
provided  at  the  most  suitable  point :  e.  g.,  "  The  persecutions 
undergone  by  the  apostles,  furnished  both  a  trial  to  their  faith, 
and  a  confirmation  to  ours :  a  trial  to  them,  because  if  human 
honors  and  rewards  had  attended  them,  they  could  not,  even 
themselves,  have  been  certain  that  these  were  not  their  object ; 
and  a  confirmation  to  us,  because  they  would  not  have  en- 
countered such  sufi'erings  in  the  cause  of  imposture."  If 
this  sentence  were  not  broken  as  it  is,  but  compacted  into  a 
period,  it  would  have  more  heaviness  of  efi"ect,  though  it 
would  be  rather  shorter :  e.  g.,  "  The  persecutions  undergone 
by  the  apostles,  furnished  both  a  trial  of  their  faith,  since  if 
human  honors,  etc.,  etc.,  and  also  a  confirmation  of  ours,  be- 
cause," etc.  Universally,  indeed,  a  complex  sentence,  whether 
antithetical  or  not,  will  often  have  a  degree  of  spirit  and 
liveliness  from  the  latter  clause  being  made  to  turn  back,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  former,  by  containing  or  referring  to  some 
word  that  had  there  been  mentioned  :  e.  g.,  "  The  introducers 
of  the  now-established  principles  of  Political  Economy  may 
fairly  be  considered  to  have  made  a  great  discovert/ ;  a  dis- 
covery the  more  creditable,  from  the  circumstance  that  the 
facts  on  which  it  was  founded  had  loni?  been  well  known  to 


*  De  Augmentis,  Lib.  VI.,  c.  3. 

t  See  Appendix  [A]  for  some  additional  specimens. 


294  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

all/^  This  kind  of  style  also  may,  as  well  as  the  antithetical, 
prove  offensive  if  carried  to  such  an  excess  as  to  produce  an 
appearance  of  affectation  or  mannerism. 

The  English  reader  will  find  the  substance  of  most  of  these 
"antitheta"  in  Bacon's  Essays;  though  not  arranged  in  the 
same  manner ;  and,  in  some  instances,  considerably  amplified.* 

§15. 

Lastly,  to  the  speaker  especially,  the  occasional  employment 
of  the  interrogative  form  will  often  prove  service- 
able with  a  view  to  energy.  It  calls  the  hearer's 
attention  more  forcibly  to  some  important  point,  by  a  personal 
appeal  to  each  individual,  either  to  assent  to  what  is  urged, 
or  to  frame  a  reasonable  objection;  and  it  often  carries  with 
it  an  air  of  triumphant  defiance  of  an  opponent  to  refute  the 
argument  if  he  can.  Either  the  premissf  or  the  conclusion, 
or  both,  of  any  argument,  may  be  stated  in  this  form  ;  but  it 
is  evident,  that  if  it  be  introduced  too  frequently,  it  will 
necessarily  fail  of  the  object  of  directing  a  particular  atten- 
tion to  the  most  important  points.  To  attempt  to  make  every 
thing  emphatic,  is  to  make  nothing  emphatic.  The  utility, 
however,  of  this  figure,  to  the  orator  at  least,  is  sufiiciently 
established  by  the  single  consideration,  that  it  abounds  in  the 
speeches  of  Demosthenes. 


CHAPTER   III. 

OF   ELEGANCE. 


§1. 

On  the  last  quality  of  style  to  be  noticed — elegance,  or 
beauty — it  is  the  less  necessary  to  enlarge,  both  because  the 
most  appropriate  and  characteristic  excellence  of  the  class  of 
compositions  here  treated  of,  is  that  energy  of  which  I  have 

■^  See  Appendix,  [A.] 

f  The  interrogative  form  is  pai*ticularly  suitable  to  the  minor  pre- 
miss of  a  dilemma,  because  that  does  not  categorically  assert,  but 
leaves  an  opponent  his  choice  of  several  alternatives.  See  Logic, 
Supp.  to  Part  III.,  ^  5. 


CII.  III.,  §  2.]  STYLE.  295 

been  speaking ;  and  also  because  many  of  the  rules  laid  down 
under  that  head  are  equally  applicable  with  a  view  to  elegance. 
The  same  choice,  number,  and  arrangement  of  words^  will, 
for  the  most  part,  conduce  both  to  energy  and  to  beauty. 
The  two  qualities,  however,  are  by  no  means  un- 
distinguishable :  a  metaphor,  for  instance,  may  enefjy'ifor'^ 
be  apt  and  striking,  and  consequently  conducive  *^^  ^'^'^®- 
to  energy  of  expression,  even  though  the  new  image,  intro- 
duced by  it,  have  no  intrinsic  beauty,  or  be  even  unpleasant; 
in  which  case  it  would  be  at  variance  with  elegance,  or  at 
least  would  not  conduce  to  it.  Elegance  requires  that  all 
homely  and  coarse  words  and  phrases  should  be  avoided,  even 
at  the  expense  of  circumlocution ;  though  they  may  be  the 
most  apt  and  forcible  that  language  can  supply.  And  ele- 
gance implies  a  smooth  and  easy  JBow  of  words  in  respect  of 
the  sound  of  the  sentences ;  though  a  more  harsh  and  abrupt 
mode  of  expression  may  often  be,  at  least,  equally  energetic. 
Accordingly,  many  are  generally  acknowledged  to  be  forcible 
writers,  to  whom  no  one  would  give  the  credit  of  elegance ; 
and  many  others,  who  are  allowed  to  be  elegant,  are  yet  by 
no  means  reckoned  among  the  vigorous  and  energetic. 

§2. 

When  the  two  excellences  of  style  are  at  variance,  the 
general  rule  to  be  observed  by  the  orator  is  to 
prefer  the  energetic  to  the  eleo;ant.     Sometimes,       Preference 

:    J      J  1   •  ^-i,  ,  'of  energy. 

indeed,  a  plain,  or  even  a  somewhat  homely  ex- 
pression, may  have  even  a  more  energetic  effect,  from  that 
very  circumstance,  than  one  of  more  studied  refinement- 
since  it  may  convey  the  idea  of  the  speaker's  being  thoroughly 
in  earnest,  and  anxious  to  convey  his  sentiments,  where  he 
uses  an  expression  that  can  have  no  other  recommendation ; 
whereas  a  strikingly  elegant  expression  may  sometimes  convey 
a  suspicion  that  it  was  introduced  for  the  sake  of  its  elegance ; 
which  will  greatly  diminish  the  force  of  what  is  said.'  The 
appearance  of  a  too  urii/orm  elegance  or  stateliness  of  style 
is  apt  to  cloy ;  like  a  piece  of  music  without  any  discords. 

Universally,  a  writer  or  speaker  should  endeavor  to  maintain 
the  appearance  of  expressing  himself,  not  as  if 
he  wanted  to  say  som.ething,  but  as  if  he  had      ff^^ne  hfcf" 
something  to  say:  i.  e.,  not  as  if  he  had  a  subject      something 
set  him,  and  was  anxious  to  compose  the  best     *°'''''^' 


296  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

essay  or  declamation  on  it  that  he  could ;  but  as  if  he  had 
some  ideas  to  which  he  was  anxious  to  give  utterance  :  not  as 
if  he  wanted  to  compose  (for  instance)  a  sermon,  and  was 
desirous  of  performing  that  task  satisfactorily;  but  as  if 
there  was  something  in  his  mind  which  he  was  desirous  of 
communicating  to  his  hearers. 

It  is  an  admonition  which  probably  will  give  offence  to 
some,  and  excite  the  scorn  of  others,  but  which  I  cannot  but 
think  may  sometimes  prove  useful  to  a  young  preacher,  that 
he  should  ask  himself,  at  the  beginning  and  in  the  course  of 
his  composition,  "  For  what  purpose  am  I  going  to  preach  ? 
Wherein  would  any  one  be  a  loser  if  I  were  to  keep  silence  ? 
Is  it  likely  that  any  one  will  learn  something  he  was  ignorant 
of,  or  be  reminded  forcibly  of  something  he  had  forgotten, 
or  that  something  he  was  familiar  with  shall  be  set  be- 
fore him  in  a  new  and  striking  point  of  view,  or  that  some 
difficulty  will  have  been  explained,  or  some  confused  ideas 
rendered  clear ;  or,  in  short,  that  I  shall  at  all  have  edified 
any  one  ?  Let  it  not  be  said  that  I  preached  because  there 
was  to  he  a  sermon,  and  concluded  when  I  had  said  enough 
to — occupy  the  requisite  time;^  careful  only  to  avoid  any 
thing  that  could  excite  censure,  and  content  to  leave  the 
hearers  just  as  I  found  them.  Let  me  not  be  satisfied  with 
the  thousandth  iteration  of  commonplaces,  on  the  ground  that 
it  is  all  very  true,  and  that  it  is  the  fault  of  the  congregation 
if  they  do  not  believe  and  practice  it ;  for  all  this  is  equally 
the  case  whether  I  preach  or  not;  and  if  all  I  say  is  what 
they  not  only  knew  before,  but  had  heard  in  the  same  trite 
and  general  statements  a  hundred  times  before,  I  might  as 
well  hold  my  peace.  I  ought  not  to  be  considering  merely 
whether  these  arguments,  motives,  doctrines,  etc.,  are  them- 
selves likely  to  produce  an  effect ;  but  whether  my  urging 
them  will  be  likely  to  make  any  difference  as  to  the  effect. 
Am  I  then  about  to  preach  merely  because  I  want  to  say 
something,  or  because  I  have  something  to  say  V 

It  is  true,  a  man  cannot  expect  constant  success  in  his  en- 
deavors ;  but  he  is  not  very  likely  to  succeed  in  any  thing 
that  is  not  even  the  object  of  his  endeavors. 

This  speaking  as  if  one  had  something  to  say,  is  probably 
what  Bishop  Butler  means  by  the  expression  of  a  man's  writ- 

*  See  above,  Part  III.,  chap,  i.,  ^  5. 


CH.  III.,  §  2.]  STYLE.  297 

ing  "  witli  simplicity  and  in  earnest.''  His  manner  lias  this 
advantage,  though  it  is  not  only  inelegant,  but  ^.^j-nest 
often  obscure  :  Dr.  Paley's  is  equally  earnest,  and  simplicity  of 
very  perspicuous;  and  though  often  homely,  is  ^^' ^°°- 
more  impressive  than  that  of  many  of  our  most  polished 
writers.  It  is  easy  to  discern  the  prevalence  of  these  two 
different  manners  in  different  authors,  respectively,  and  to 
perceive  the  very  different  effects  produced  by  them ;  it  is 
not  so  easy  for  one  who  is  not  really  writing  ''  with  simplicity 
and  in  earnest,"  to  assume  the  appearance  of  it.*  But  cer- 
tainly nothing  is  more  adverse  to  this  appearance  than  over- 
refinement.  Any  expression  indeed  that  is  vulgar,  in  bad 
taste,  and  unsuitable  to  the  dignity  of  the  subject  or  of  the 
occasion,  is  to  be  avoided ;  since,  though  it  might  have,  with 
some  hearers,  an  energetic  effect,  this  would  be  more  than 
counterbalanced  by  the  disgust  produced  in  others;  and  where 
a  small  accession  of  energy  is  to  be  gained  at  the  expense  of 
a  g7'eat  sacrifice  of  elegance,  the  latter  will  demand  a  prefer- 
ence. But  still,  the  general  rule  is  not  to  be  lost  sight  of  by 
him  who  is  in  earnest  aiming  at  the  true  ultimate  end  of  the 
orator,  to  which  all  others  are  to  be  made  subservient;  viz., 
not  the  amusement  of  his  hearers,  nor  their  admiration  of 
himself,  but  their  conviction  or  persuasion. 

It  is  from  this  view  of  the  subject  that  I  have  dwelt  most 
on  that  quality  of  style  which  seems  most  especially  adapted 
to  that  object.  Perspicuity  is  required  in  all  compositions; 
and  may  even  be  considered  as  the  ultimate  end  of  a  scientific 
writer,  considered  as  such.  He  may  indeed  practically  in- 
crease his  utility  by  writing  so  as  to  excite  curiosity,  and 
recommend  his  subject  to  general  attention;  but  in  doing  so, 
he  is,  in  some  degree,  superadding  the  office  of  the  orator  to 
his  own ;  as  a  philosopher,  he  may  assume  the  existence  in 
his  reader  of  a  desire  for  knowledge,  and  has  only  to  convey 
that  knowledge  in  language  that  may  be  clearly  understood. 
Of  the  style  of  the  orator,  (in  the  wide  sense  in  which  I  have 
been  using  this  appellation,  as  including  all  who  are  aiming 
at  conviction,)  the  appropriate  object  is  to  impress  the  mean- 
ing strongly  upo;i  men's  minds.  Of  the  poet,  again,  as 
__^_^__ »■ 

■^  This  may  be  one  reason  •why  an  author's  notes  are  often  more 
spirited  and  more  interesting  than  the  rest  of  his  work. 


298  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

such,'''  tlie  ultimate  end  is  to  give  pleasure;  and  accordingly 
elegance  or  beauty  (in  the  most  extensive  sense  of  those 
terms)  will  be  the  appropriate  qualities  of  his  language. 


Some  indeed  have  contended,  that  to  give  pleasure  is  not. 
Beauty  of  *^®  ultimate  end  of  poetry  ;■)"  not  distinguishing 
style  the  between  the  object  which  the  poet  may  have  in 

cEaracterof     view,  as  a  man,  and  that  which  is  the  object  of 
poetical  poetry,  as  poetry.     Many,  no  doubt,  may  have 

proposed  to  themselves  the  far  more  important 
object  of  producing  moral  improvement  in  their  hearers 
through  the  medium  of  poetry;  and  so  have  others,  the  in- 
culcation of  their  own  political  or  philosophical  tenets ;  or 
(as  is  supposed  in  the  case  of  the  Georgics)  the  encourage- 
ment of  agriculture.  But  if  the  views  of  the  individual  are 
to  be  taken  into  account,  it  should  be  considered  that  the 
personal  fame  or  emolument  of  the  author  is  very  frequently 
liis  ultimate  object.  The  true  test  is  easily  applied  :  that 
which  to  competent  judges  affords  the  appropriate  pleasure 
of  poetry,  is  good  poetry,  whether  it  answer  any  other  purpose 
or  not ;  that  which  does  not  afford  this  pleasure,  however  in- 
structive it  may  be,  is  not  good  poetry,  though  it  may  be  a 
valuable  work. 

It  may  be  doubted,  however,  how  far  these  remarks  apply 
to  the  question  respecting  beauty  of  style;  since  the  chief 
gratification  afforded  by  poetry  arises,  it  may  be  said,  from 
the  beauty  of  the  thoughts.  And .  undoubtedly 
constituted  ^^  these  be  mean  and  commonplace,  the  poetry 
such  by  the  -^vill  be  worth  little ;  but  still,  it  is  not  any  quality 
of  the  thoughts  that  constitutes  poetry.  Notwith- 
standing all  that  has  been  advanced  by  some  French  criticsj 
to  prove  that  a  work  not  in  metre  may  be  a  poem,  (which 
doctrine  was  partly  derived  from  a  misinterpretation  of  a 
passage  in  Aristotle's  "  Poetics,"§)  universal  opinion  has 
always  given  a  contrary  decision.     Any  composition  in  verse 

■*  See  Bishop  Copleston's  "  Lectures  on  Poetry." 

f  Supported  in  so^e  degree  by  the  authority  of  Horace : 

^^Aut  prodesse  volunt,  aut  deleetare  poetse.^' 
X  See  Preface  to  "  T^l^maque." 
I  ■fL?iol  loyoL  has  been  erroneously  interpreted  language  without 


CH.  III.,  §  3.]  STYLE.  299 

(and  none  that  is  not)  is  always  called,  whether  good  or  bad, 
a  poem,  by  all  who  have  no  favorite  hypothesis  to  maintain. 
It  is  indeed  a  common  figure  of  speech  to  say,  in  speaking  of 
any  work  that  is  deficient  in  the  qualities  which  poetry  ought 
to  exhibit,  that  it  is  not  a  poem;  just  as  we  say  of  one  who 
wants  the  characteristic  excellences  of  the  species,  or  the  sex, 
that  he  is  not  a  man;^  and  thus  some  have  been  led  to  con- 
found together  the  appropriate  excellence  of  the  thing  in 
question,  with  its  essence ;'\  but  the  use  of  such  an  expression 
as  an  ^^indifferent"  or  a  '^dull  poem,"  shows  plainly  that  the 
title  of  poetry  does  not  necessarily  imply  the  requisite  heoMties 
of  poetry. 

Poetry  is  not  distinguished  from  prose  by  superior  beauty 
of  thought  or  of  expression,  but  is  a  distinct  kind  Distinction 
of  composition  ;|  and  they  produce,  when  each  of  poetry 
is  excellent  in  its  kind,  distinct  kinds  of  pleasure.  ^"  prose. 
Try  the  experiment  of  merely  breaking  up  the  metrical  struc- 
ture of  a  fine  poem,  and  you  will  find  it  injiated  and  bombas- 
tic prose  :§  remove  this  defect  by  altering  the  words  and  the 

metre,  in  a  passage  where  it  certainly  means  metre  without  music  ;  or, 
as  he  calls  it  in  another  part  of  the  same  Work,  ipiJo/ierpca. 

*  "I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  jnan; 
Who  dares  do  more  is  no7ic." — 3Iacbeth. 

f  It  is  perhaps  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  I  do  not  mean  to 
employ  the  word  "essential"  in  a  sense  which  it  sometimes  bears, 
viz.,  important.  The  essential  circumstance  in  "fresco -painting"  is 
that  the  colors  are  laid  on  wet  plaster ;  in  an  "oil-painting,"  that 
they  shall  have  been  mixed  in  oils  ;  in  an  "  etching,"  that  aqna-fortis 
shall  have  been  employed  ;  etc.  But  no  one  would  bo  understood  to 
mean  by  this,  that  these  circumstances  are  of  more  consequence  (and 
in  that  sense  more  essential)  than  the  display  of  the  artist's  genius. 
So,  in  the  present  case,  the  beauty  of  the  thoughts  is  a  more  im- 
portant, and,  in  that  sense,  a  more  essential  circumstance,  than 
metre. 

J  I  wish  it  to  be  observed,  that  I  am  not  defending  or  seeking  to 
introduce  any  unusual  or  new  sense  of  the  word  poetry ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  explaining  and  vindicating  that  which  is  the  most  custom- 
ary among  all  men  who  have  no  particular  theory  to  support.  The 
mass  of  mankind  often  need,  indeed,  to  have  the  meaning  of  a  word 
(i.  e.,  their  oion  meaning)  explained  and  developed;  but  not  to  have  it 
determined  ivhat  it  shall  mean,  since  that  is  determined  by  their  use ; 
the  true  sense  of  each  word  being,  thai  tvhich  is  understood  by  it. 

\  Hence  the  impropriety  of  the  practice,  by  no  means  uncommon, 
of  learning  a  lamjuage  from  its  poetry.     It  is  like  learning  Botany  in 


300  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

arrangement,  and  it  will  be  hetter  prose  than  before ;  tlien 
arrange  this  again  into  metre,  without  any  other  change,  and 
it  will  be  tame  and  dull  poetry ;  but  still  it  will  he  poetry,  as 
is  indicated  by  the  very  censure  it  will  incur;  for  if  it  were 
not,  there  would  be  no  fault  to  be  found  with  it ; .  since,  while 
it  remained  prose,  it  was  (as  we  have  supposed)  unexception- 
able. The  circumstance  that  the  same  style  which  was  even 
required  in  one  kind  of  composition,  proved  offensive  in  the 
other,  shows  that  a  different  kind  of  language  is  suitable  for 
a  composition  in  metre. 

Another  indication  of  the  essential  difference  between  the 
two  kinds  of  composition,  and  of  the  superior 
Sansiatabie.  importance  of  the  expression  in  poetry,  is,  that  a 
good  translation  of  a  poem  (though,  perhaps, 
strictly  speaking,  what  is  so  called  is  rather  an  imitation^)  is 
read  by  one  well  acquainted  with  the  original,  with  equal  or 
even  superior  pleasure  to  that  which  it  affords  to  one  ignorant 
of  that  original;  whereas,  the  best  translation  of  a  prose 
work  (at  least  of  one  not  principally  valued  for  beauty  of 
style)  will  seldom  be  read  by  one  familiar  with  the  original. 
And  for  the  same  reason,  a  fine  passage  of  poetry  will  be  re- 
perused,  with  unabated  pleasure,  for  the  twentieth  time,  even 
by  one  who  knows  it  by  heart-f 

According  to  the  views  here  taken,  good  poetry  might  be 
defined,  ^^ Elegant  and  decorated  language,  in  metre,  express- 
ing such  and  such  thoughts ;"  and  good  prose  composition, 
^^ Such  and  such  thoughts  expressed,  in  good  language:"  that 
which  is  primary  in  each,  being  subordinate  in  the  other. 

§4. 
What  has  been  said  may  be  illustrated  as  fully,  not  as  it 

a  flower-garden;  which  is  filled  with  what  are,  to  the  botanist's  eye, 
beautiful  monsters — every  variety  of  curious  and  ornamental  deviation 
from  the  simple  forms. 

*  And  accordingly  it  should  be  observed,  that,  as  all  admit,  none 
but  a  poet  can  be  qualified  to  translate  a  poem. 

f  Hence  it  is  that  the  want  of  complete  perspicuity  (such,  i.  e.,  as 
puts  the  reader  instantly  in  possession  of  the  whole  sense)  is  a  far 
less  fault  in  poetry  than  in  prose.  For  poetry,  if  it  be  worth  read- 
ing at  all,  is  worth  reading  over  and  over ;  which  it  will  be,  if  it  be 
sufficiently  intelligible,  on  a  first  perusal,  to  excite  vivid  and  pleasing 
emotions. 


CII.  III.,  §  4.]  STYLE.  301 

miglit  be,  but  as  is  suitable  to  the  present  occasion,  by  the  fol- 
lowing passages  from  Dr.  A.  Smith's  admirable 
fragment  of  an  ''  Essay  on  the  Imitative  Arts  :"  tween^prose 
''  Were  I  to  attempt  to  discriminate  between  dan-  ami  poetry, 
cing  and  any  other  kind  of  movement,  I  should  dancing, 
observe,  that  though  in  performing  any  ordinary  and^sin^'infr. 
action — in  walking,  for  example,  across  the  room — 
a  person  may  manifest  both  grace  and  agility,  yet  if  he  be- 
trays the  least  intention  of  showing  either,  he  is  sure  of 
offending  more  or  less,  and  we  never  fail  to  accuse  him  of 
some  degree  of  vanity  and  affectation.  In  the  performance 
of  any  such  ordinary  action,  every  one  wishes  to  appear  to  be 
solely  occupied  about  the  proper  purpose  of  the  action ;  if  he 
means  to  show  either  grace  or  agility,  he  is  careful  to  conceal 
that  meaning ;  and  in  proportion  as  he  betrays  it,  which  he 
almost  always  does,  he  offends.  In  dancing,  on  the  contrary, 
every  one  professes  and  avows,  as  it  were,  the  intention  of 
displaying  some  degree  either  of  grace  or  of  agility,  or  of 
both.  The  display  of  one  or  other,  or  both  of  these  qualities, 
is,  in  reality,  the  proper  purpose  of  the  action ;  and  there 
can  never  be  any  disagreeable  vanity  or  affectation  in  following 
out  the  proper  purpose  of  any  action.  When  we  say  of  any 
particular  person,  that  he  gives  himself  many  affected  airs 
and  graces  in  dancing-,  we  mean  either  that  he  exhibits  airs 
and  graces  unsuitable  to  the  nature  of  the  dance,  or  that  he 
exaggerates  those  which  are  suitable.  Every  dance  is,  in 
reality,  a  succession  of  airs  and  graces  of  some  kind  or  other, 
which,  if  I  may  say  so,  profess  themselves  to  be  such.  The 
steps,  gestures,  and  motions  which,  as  it  were,  avow  the  in- 
tention of  exhibiting  a  succession  of  such  airs  and  graces, 
are  the  steps,  gestures,  and  motions  which  are  peculiar  to 

dancing The  distinction  between  the  sounds  or  tones 

of  singing,  and  those  of  speaking,  seems  to  be  of  the  same 
kind  with  that  between  the  steps,  etc.,  of  dancing,  and  those 
of  any  other  ordinary  action.  Though  in  speaking  a  person 
may  show  a  very  agreeable  tone  of  voice,  yet  if  he  seems  to 
intend  to  show  it — if  he  appears  to  listen  to  the  sound  of  his 
own  voice,  and  as  it  were  to  tune  it  into  a  pleasing  modulation 
— he  never  fails  to  offend,  as  guilty  of  a  most  disagreeable 
affectation.  In  speaking,  as  in  every  other  ordinary  action, 
we  expect  and  require  that  the  speaker  should  attend  only  to 


302  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   III. 

the  proper  purpose  of  the  action — the  clear  and  distinct  ex- 
pression of  what  he  has  to  say.  In  singing,  on  the  contrary, 
every  one  professes  the  intention  to  please  by  the  tone  and 
cadence  of  his  voice ;  and  he  not  only  appears  to  be  guilty 
of  no  disagreeable  affectation  in  doing  so,  but  we  expect  and 
require  that  he  should  do  so.  To  please  by  the  choice  and 
arrangement  of  agreeable  sounds,  is  the  proper  purpose  of  all 
music,  vocal  as  well  as  instrumental;  and  we  always  expect 
that  every  one  should  attend  to  the  proper  purpose  of  what- 
ever action  he  is  performing.  A  person  may  appear  to  sing, 
as  well  as  to  dance,  affectedly ;  he  may  endeavor  to  please  by 
sounds  and  tones  which  are  unsuitable  to  the  nature  of  the 
song,  or  he  may  dwell  too  much  on  those  which  are  suitable 
to  it.  The  disagreeable  affectation  appears  to  consist  always, 
not  in  attempting  to  please  by  a  proper,  but  by  some  improper 
modulation  of  the  voice. ^' 

It  is  only  necessary  to  add,  (what  seems  evidently  to  have 
been  in  the  author's  mind,  though  the  dissertation  is  left 
unfinished,)  that  poetry  has  the  same  relation  to  prose,  as 
dancing  to  walking,  and  singing  to  speaking;  and  that  what 
has  been  said  of  them,  will  apply  exactly,  mutatis  mutancfis, 
to  the  other.  It  is  needless  to  state  this  at  length,  as  any 
one,  by  going  over  the  passages  just  cited,  merely  substituting 
for  ''singing,'^  "poefiy'' — for  "speaking,"  ^^ prose''  —  for 
"voice,"  "language,"  etc.,  will  at  once  perceive  the  coin- 
cidence.* 

What  has  been  said  will  not  be  thought  an  unnecessary 
digression  by  any  one  who  considers  (not  to  mention  the 
direct  application  of  Dr.  Smith's  remarks  to  elocution)  the 
important  principle  thus  established  in  respect  of  the  deco- 
rations of  style :  viz.,  that  though  it  is  possible  for  a  poetical 
style  to  be  affectedly  and  offensively  ornamented,  yet  the  same 
degree  and  kind  of  decoration  which  is  not  only  allowed,  but 
required,  in  verse,  would  in  prose  be  disgusting ;  and  that  the 
appearance  of  attention  to  the  beauty  of  the  expression,  and 
to  the  arrangement  of  the  words,  which  in  verse  is  essential, 
is  to  be  carefully  avoided  in  prose. 

*  This  probably  was  in  Aristotle's  mind  when  he  reckoned  poetry 
among  the  imitative  arts;  viz.,  that  it  is  imitative  of  prose  composi- 
tion, in  the  same  manner  as  singing,  of  ordinary  speaking;  and 
dancing,  of  ordinary  action. 


CH.  III.,  §  4.]  STYLE.  303 

And  since,  as  Dr.  Smith  observes,  "  such  a  design,  when  it 
exists,  is  almost  always  betrayed,"  the  safest  rule   ^^^^^^^^  of 
is,  never,  during  the  act  of  composition,  to  study   style  in  prose 
elegance,  or  think  about  it  at  all.     Let  an  author   J^hJughrof 
study  the  best  models — mark  their  beauties  of    durmg_tiie  act 
style,  and  dwell  upon  them,  that  he  may  insensibly       ^^  ^  "^^' 
catch  the  habit  of  expressing  himself  with  elegance;    and 
when  he  has  completed  any  composition,  he  may  revise  it, 
and  cautiously  alter  any  passage  that  is  awkward  and  harsh, 
as  well  as  those  that  are  feeble  and  obscure ',  but  let  him 
never,  while  writing,  think  of  any  beauties  of  style,  but  con- 
tent himself  with  such  as  may  occur  spontaneously.     He 
should  carefully  study  perspicuiti/  as  he  goes  along ;  he  may 
also,  though  more  cautiously,  aim,  in  like  manner,  at  energy; 
but  if  he  Is  endeavoring  after  elegance,  he  will  hardly  fail  to 
betray  that  endeavor ;  and  in  proportion  as  he  does  this,  he 
will  be  so  far  from  giving  pleasure,  to  good  judges,  that  he 
will  offend  more  than  by  the  rudest  simplicity. 


304  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 


PART  IV. 

OF    ELOCUTION 


CHAPTEE    I. 

GENERAL  CONSIDERATIONS  RELATIVE  TO  ELOCUTION. 


§1- 

On  tlie  importance  of  this  brancli,  it  is  hardly  necessary 
to  offer  any  remark.  Few  need  to  be  told  that  the  effect  of 
the  most  perfect  composition  may  be  entirely  destroyed,  even 
by  a  delivery  which  does  not  render  it  unintelligible ;  that 
one  which  is  inferior  both  in  matter  and  style,  may  produce, 
if  better  spoken,  a  more  powerful  effect  than  another  which 
surpasses  it  in  both  these  points ;  and  that  even  such  an  elo- 
cution as  does  not  spoil  the  effect  of  what  is  said,  may  yet  fall 
far  short  of  doing  full  justice  to  it.  ^'  What  would  you  hav/e 
said/'  observed  JEschines,  when  his  recital  of  his  great  rival's 
celelDrated  speech  on  the  Crown  was  received  with  a  burst  of 
admiration — "  what  would  you  have  said,  had  you  heard  him 
speak  it  ?" 

The  subject  is  far  from  having  failed  to  engage  attention. 
Of  the  prevailing  deficiency  of  this,  more  than  of  any  other 
qualification  of  a  perfect  orator,  many  have  complained ;  and 
several  have  labored  to  remove  it ;  but  it  may  safely  be  as- 
serted, that  their  endeavors  have  been,  at  the  very  best,  en- 
tirely unsuccessful.  Probably  not  a  single  instance  could  be 
found  of  any  one  who  has  attained,  by  the  study  of  any  sys- 
tem of  instruction  that  has  hitherto  appeared,  a  really  good 
delivery ;  but  there  are  many — probably  nearly  as  many  as 


CH.  I.,  §  3.]  ELOCUTION.  305 

have  fully  tried  the  experiment — who  have  by  this  means 
been  totally  spoiled ;  who  have  fallen  irrecoverably  into  an 
affected  style  of  spouting,  worse,  in  all  respects,  than  their 
original  mode  of  delivery.  Many  accordingly  have,  not  un- 
reasonably, conceived  a  disgust  for  the  subject  altogether; 
considering  Jt  hopeless  that  elocution  should  be  taught  by  any 
rules  ]  and  acquiescing  in  the  conclusion  that  it  is  to  be  re- 
garded as  entirely  a  gift  of  nature,  or  an  accidental  acquire- 
ment of  practice. 

It  is  to  counteract  'the  prejudice  which  may  result  from 
these  feelings,  that  I  have  thought  it  needful  to  profess  in 
the  outset  a  dissent  from  the  principles  generally  adopted,  and 
to  lay  claim  to  some  degree  of  originality  in  my  own.  Nov- 
elty affords  at  least  an  opening  for  hope ;  and  the  only  opening, 
when  former  attempts  have  met  with  total  failure.* 


The  requisites  of  elocution  correspond  in  great  measure 
with  those  of  style  :  correct  enunciation,  in  oppo- 
sition both  to  indistinct  utterance,  and  to  vulgar  ^locution^  °^ 
and  provincial  pronunciation,  may  be  considered 
as  answering  to  purity,  grammatical  propriety,  and  absence 
of  obsolete  or  otherwise  unintelligible  words.  These  qualities, 
of  style  and  of  elocution,  being  equally  required  in  common 
conversation,  do  not  fall  within  the  proper  province  of  Khe- 
toric.  The  three  qualities,  again,  which  have  been  treated 
of  under  the  head  of  Style,  viz.,  perspicuity,  energy,  and 
elegance,  may  be  regarded  as  equally  requisites  of  elocution ; 
which,  in  order  to  be  perfect,  must  convey  the  meaning  clear- 
7?/y  forcibly,  and  agreeably. 

§3. 

Before,  however,  I  enter  upon  any  separate  examination 
of  these  requisites,  it  will  be  necessary  to  pre- 
mise a  few  remarks  on  the  distinction  between  -^T^llr^^ ''^"'^ 
the  two  branches  of  delivery :  viz.,  reading  aloud, 
and  speaking.  The  object  of  correct  reading  is  to  convey  to 
the  hearers,  through  the  medium  of  the  ear,  what  is  con- 
veyed to  the  reader  by  the  eye ;  to  put  them  in  the  same 

*  This  is,  in  substance,  one  of  Bacon's  aphorisms. 


306  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

situation  with  him  who  has  the  book  before  him;  to  ex- 
hibit to  them,  in  short,  by  the  voice,  not  only  each  word,  but 
also  all  the  stops,  paragraphs,  italic  characters,  notes  of  in- 
terrogation, etc.,*  which  his  sight  presents  to  him.  His 
voice  seems  to  indicate  to  them,  "  Thus  and  thus  it  is  written 
in  the  book  or  manuscript  before  me." 

Impressive  reading  superadds  to  this  some  degree  of  adapta- 
tion of  the  tones  of  voice  to  the  character  of  the 
J^P^essive       subject,  and  of  the  style. 

What  is  often  termed  ^zne  reading  seems  to 
convey,  in  addition  to  these,  a  kind  of  admonition  to  the 
hearers  respecting  the  feelings  which  the  composition  ought 
to  excite  in  them :  it  appears  to  say,  "  This  deserves  your 
admiration  ',  this  is  sublime ;  this  is  pathetic,''  etc. 

But  speaking,  i.  e.,  natural  speaking,  when  the  speaker  is 
^  ^  uttering  his  own  sentiments,  and  is  thinking  ex- 
^  ^  ^  ^'  clusively  of  them^  has  something  in  it  distinct 
from  all  this  :  it  conveys,  by  the  sounds  which  reach  the  ear, 
the  idea  that  what  is  said  is  the  immediate  effusion  of  the 
speaker's  own  mind,  which  he  is  desirous  of  imparting  to 
others.  A  decisive  proof  of  which  is,  that  if  any  one  over- 
hears the  voice  of  another,  to  whom  he  is  an  utter  stranger — 


*  It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  even  tolerable  reading  aloud  sup- 
plies more  than  is  exhibited  by  a  book  to  the  eye ;  since  though 
italics,  e.  g.,  indicate  which  word  is  to  receive  the  emphasis,  they  do 
not  point  out  the  tone  in  which  it  is  to  be  pronounced ;  which  may 
be  essential  even  to  the  right  understanding  of  the  sentence.  E.  g,, 
in  such  a  sentence  as  in  Genesis  i.,  "God  said,  Let  th^re  be  light; 
and  there  was  light ;"  here  we  can  indicate  indeed  to  the  eye  that  the 
stress  is  to  be  upon  "w«5;"  but  it  may  be  pronounced  in  different 
tones ;  one  of  which  would  alter  the  sense,  by  implying  that  there 
was  light  already. 

This  is  true  indeed ;  and  it  is  also  true,  that  the  very  words  them- 
selves are  not  always  presented  to  the  eye  with  the  same  distinctions 
as  are  to  be  conveyed  to  the  ear;  as,  e.  g.,  "abuse,"  "refuse," 
"project,"  and  many  others,  are  pronounced  differently,  as  nouns 
and  as  verbs.  This  ambiguity^  however,  in  our  written  signs,  as 
well  as  the  other,  relative  to  the  emphatic  words,  are  imperfections 
which  will  not  mislead  a  moderately  practiced  reader.  My  mean- 
ing, in  saying  that  such  reading  as  I  am  speaking  of  puts  the  hearers 
in  the  same  sitviation  as  if  the  book  were  before  them,  is  to  be  under- 
stood on  the  supposition  of  their  being  able  not  only  to  read,  but  to 
read  so  as  to  take  in  the  full  sense  of  what  is  written. 


CH.  I.,  §  3.]  ELOCUTION.  307 

suppose  in  the  next  room — without  being  able  to  catch  the 
sense  of  what  is  said,  he  will  hardly  ever  be  for  a  moment  at 
a  loss  to  decide  whether  he  is  reading  or  speaking  ;  and  this, 
though  the  hearer  may  not  be  one  who  has  ever  paid  any 
critical  attention  to  the  various  modulations  of  the  human 
voice.  So  wide  is  the  difference  of  the  tones  employed  on 
these  two  occasions,  be  the  subject  what  it  may.* 

The  difference  of  effect  produced  is  proportionably  great  : 
the  personal  sympathy  felt  towards  one  who  ap-  attention  cou- 
pears  to  be  delivering  his  own  sentiments,  is  nectedwith 
sucli,  that  it  usually  rivets  the  attention,  even  ''^'"^P^  ^• 
involuntarily,  though  to  a  discourse  which  appears  hardly 
worthy  of  it.  It  is  not  easy  for  an  auditor  to  fall  asleep 
while  he  is  hearing  even  perhaps  feeble  reasoning,  clothed  in 
indifferent  language,  delivered  extemporaneously,  and  in  an 
unaffected  style ;  whereas  it  is  common  for  men  to  find  a  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  themselves  awake  while  listening  even  to  a 
good  dissertation  of  the  same  length,  or  even  shorter,  on  a 
subject  not  uninteresting  to  them,  when  read,  though  with 
propriety,  and  not  in  a  languid  manner.  And  the  thoughts, 
even  of  those  not  disposed  to  be  drowsy,  are  apt  to  wander, 
unless  they  use  an  effort  from  time  to  time  to  prevent  it; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  notoriously  difficult  to  with- 
draw our  attention,  even  from  a  trifling  talker  of  whom  wc 
are  weary,  and  to  occupy  the  mind  with  reflections  of  its 
own. 

Of  the  two  branches  of  elocution  which  have  been  just 
mentioned,  it  might  at  first  sight  appear  as  if  one  only,  that 

■^  "At  every  sentence  let  them  ask  themselves  this  question:  How 
should  I  utter  this,  were  I  speaking  it  as  my  own  immediate  senti- 
ments ? — I  have  often  tried  an  experiment  to  show  the  great  differ- 
ence between  these  two  modes  of  utterance,  the  natural  and  the  arti- 
ficial ;  which  was,  that  when  I  found  a  person  of  vivacity  delivering 
his  sentiments  with  energy,  and  of  course  with  all  that  variety  of 
tones  which  nature  furnishes,  I  have  taken  occasion  to  put  some- 
thing into  liis  hand  to  read,  as  relative  to  the  topic  of  conversation  ; 
and  it  was  surprising  to  see  what  an  immediate  change  there  was  in 
his  delivery,  from  the  moment  he  began  to  read.  A  different  pitch 
of  voice  took  the  place  of  his  natural  one,  and  a  tedious  uniformity 
of  cadence  succeeded  to  a  spirited  variety ;  insomuch  that  a  blind 
man  could  hardly  conceive  the  person  who  read  to  be  the  same  who 
had  just  been  speaking." — Sheridan,  Art  of  Reading. 


308  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

of  the  speaker,  came  under  the  province  of  Klietoric,     But 

it  will   be  evident,  on   consideration,  that  both 

and  speakhig    niust  be,  to  a  certain  extent,  regarded  as  con- 

^°JV^^^'*'"\^  ■     nected  with  our  present  subject;  not  merelv  bc- 

with Rhetoric.  n  ^i  •      •    ^  t      i  i 

cause  many  01  the  same  principles  are  apphcable  to 
both,  but  because  any  one  who  delivers  (as  is  so  commonly 
the  case)  a  written  composition  of  his  own,  may  be  reckoned 
as  belonging  to  either  class ',  as  a  reader  who  is  the  author 
of  what  he  reads,  or  as  a  speaker  who  supplies  the  deficiency 
of  his  memory  by  writing.  And  again,  in  the  (less  common) 
cases  where  a  speaker  is  delivering  without  book,  and  from 
ineTYiory  alone,  a  written  composition,  either  his  own  or  an- 
other's, though  this  cannot  in  strictness  be  called  reading, 
yet  the  tone  of  it  will  be  very  likely  to  resemble  that  of 
reading.  In  the  other  case — that  where  the  author  is  actu- 
ally reading  his  own  composition — he  will  be  still  more  likely, 
notwithstanding  its  being  his  own,  to  approach,  in  the  de- 
livery of  it,  to  the  elocution  of  a  reader ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  possible  for  him,  even  without  actually  deceiving 
the  hearers  into  the  belief  that  he  is  speaking  extempore,  to 
approach  indefinitely  near  to  that  style. 

The  difficulty,  however,  of  doing  this,  to  one  who  has  the 
writing  actually  before  him,  is  considerable;  arud  it  is  of 
course  far  greater  when  the  composition  is  not  his  own.  And 
as  it  is  evident  from  what  has  been  said  that  this  (as  it  may 
be  called)  extemporaneous  style  of  elocution  is — in  any  case 
where  it  is  not  improper — much  the  more  impressive,  it  be- 
comes an  interesting  inquiry,  how  the  difficulty  in  question 
may  be  best  surmounted. 


Little,  if  any,  attention  has  been  bestowed  on  this  point  by 
Artificial  *^®  Writers  on  elocution ;  the  distinction  above 

style  of  pointed  out  between  reading  and  speaking  having 

elocution.  seldom  or  never  been  precisely  stated  and  dwelt 
on.  Several,  however,  have  written  elaborately  on  "good 
reading,''  or  on  elocution  generallij ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  de- 
nied, that  some  ingenious  and  (in  themselves)  valuable  re- 
marks have  been  thrown  out  relative  to  such  qualities  in  elo- 
cution as  might  be  classed  under  the  three  heads  I  have  laid 
down,  of  perspicuity,  energy,  and  eloquence;  but  there  is 


CH.  I.,  §  4.]  ELOCUTION.  809 

one  principle  running  througli  all  their  precepts,  which 
being,  according  to  my  views,  radically  erroneous,  must  (if 
those  views  be  correct)  vitiate  every  system  founded  on  it. 
The  principle  I  mean  is,  that  in  order  to  acquire  the  best  style 
of  delivery,  it  is  requisite  to  fix  the  attention  on  the  voice ; 
to  study  analytically  the  emphases,  tones,  pauses,  degrees  of 
loudness,  etc.,  which  give  the  proper  efi"ect  to  each  passage 
that  is  well  delivered ;  to  frame  rules  founded  on  the  obser- 
vation of  these ;  and  then,  in  practice,  deliberately  and  care- 
fully to  conform  the  utterance  to  these  rules,  so  as  to  form  a 
complete  artificial  system  of  elocution. 

That  such  a  plan  not  only  directs  us  into  a  circuitous  and 
difiicult  path,  towards  an  object  which  may  be  reached  by  a 
shorter  and  straighter,  but  also,  in  most  instances,  completely 
fails  of  that  very'^object,  and  even  produces,  oftener  than  not, 
effects  the  very  reverse  of  what  is  designed,  is  a  doctrine  for 
which  it  will  be  necessary  to  offer  some  reasons ;  especially 
as  it  is  undeniable  that  the  system  here  reprobated,  as  em- 
ployed in  the  case  of  elocution,  is  precisely  that  recommended 
and  taught  in  this  very  treatise,  in  respect  of  the  conduct  of 
arguments.  By  analyzing  the  best  compositions,  and  observ- 
ing what  kinds  of  arguments,  and  what  modes  of  arranging 
them,  in  each  case,  prove  most  successful,  general  rules  have 
been  framed,  which  an  author  is  recommended  studiously  to 
observe  in  composition ;  and  this  is  precisely  the  procedure 
which,  in  elocution,  I  deprecate. 

The  reason  for  making  such  a  difference  in  these  two  cases 
is  this:  Whoever  (as  I)r.  A.  Smith  remarks  in   Excellence  in 
the  passage  lately  cited*)  appears  to  be  attend-  matter  and  in 
ing  to  his  own  utterance,  which  will  almost  inev-   aimed^atin 
itablv  be  the  case  with  every  one  who  is  doing  opposite 
so,  is  sure  to  give  offence,  and  to  be  censured  for 
an  affected  delivery ;  because  every  one  is  expected  to  attend 
exclusively  to  the  proper  object  of  the  action  he  is  engaged 
in ;  which,  in  this  case,  is  the  expression  of  the  thoughts — 
not  the  sound  of  the  expressions.    Whoever  therefore  learns, 
and  endeavors  to  apply  in  practice,  any  artificial  rules  of  elo- 
cution, so  as  deliberately  to  modulate  his  voice  conformably 
to  the  principles  he  has  adopted,  (however  just  they  may  be 

*  See  Part  III.,  chap,  iii.,  §  4. 


310  ELEMENTS   OP  RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

in  themselves,)  will  hardly  ever  fail  to  betray  his  intention ; 
which  always  gives  offence  when  perceived.  Arguments,  on 
the  contrary,  must  he  deliberately  framed.  Whether  any 
one's  course  of  reasoning  be  sound  and  judicious,  or  not,  it  is 
necessary,  and  it  is  expected,  that  it  should  be  the  result  of 
thought.  No  one,  as  Dr.  Smith  observes,  is  charged  with 
affectation  for  giving  his  attention  to  the  proper  object  of 
the  action  he  is  engaged  in.  As  therefore  the  proper  object 
of  the  orator  is  to  adduce  convincing  arguments,  and  topics 
of  persuasion,  there  is  nothing  offensive  in  his  appearing 
deliberately  to  aim  at  this  object.  He  may  indeed  weaken 
the  force  of  what  is  urged  by  too  great  an  appearance  of 
elaborate  composition,  or  by  exciting  suspicion  of  rhetorical 
trick  ;  but  he  is  so  far  from  being  expected  to  pay  no  atten- 
tion to  the  sense  of  what  he  says,  that  the  most  powerful 
argument  would  lose  much  of  its  force,  if  it  were  supposed  to 
have  been  thrown  out  casually  and  at  random.  Here  there- 
fore the  employment  of  a  regular  system  (if  founded  on  just 
principles)  can  produce  no  such  ill  effects  as  in  the  case  of 
elocution ;  since  the  habitual  attention  which  that  implies,  to 
the  choice  and  arrangement  of  arguments,  is  such  as  must 
take  place,  at  any  rate;  whether  it  be  conducted  on  any 
settled  principles  or  not.  The  only  difference  is,  that  he  who 
proceeds  on  a  correct  system,  will  think  and  deliberate  con- 
cerning the  course  of  his  reasoning,  to  better  jmrpose,  than 
he  who  does  not :  he  will  do  loell  and  easily  what  the  other 
does  ill  and  with  more  labor.  Both  alike  must  bestow  their 
attention  on  the  matter  of  what,  they  say,  if  they  would  pro- 
duce any  effect  3  both  are  not  only  allowed,  but  expected  to 
do  so. 

The  two  opposite  modes  of  proceeding,  therefore,  which 
are  recommended  in  respect  of  these  two  points,  (the  argu- 
ment and  the  delivery,)  are,  in  fact,  both  the  result  of  the 
same  circumstance;  viz.,  that  the  speaker  is  expected  to  be- 
stow his  whole  attention  on  the  proper  business  of  his  speech; 
which  is,  not  the  elocution,  but  the  matter.* 

*  Style  occupies  in  some  respects  an  intermediate  place  between 
these  two ;  in  what  degree  each  quality  of  it  should  or  should  not 
be  made  an  object  of  attention  at  the  time  of  composing,  and  how  fai 
the  appearance  of  such  attention  is  tolerated,  has  been  already  treated 
of  in  the  preceding  Part. 


CH.  II.,  §  1.]  ELOCUTION.  311 


When,  however,  I  protest  against  all  artificial  systems  of 

elocution,  and  all  direct  attention  to  delivery,  at 

the  time,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  a  qeneral    N^^^i^'al  style 
i  .       .  ^'^  Til  ^^  elocution. 

inattention  to  that  point  is  recommended;  or  that 
the  most  perfect  elocution  is  to  be  attained  by  never  think- 
ing at  all  on  the  subject;  though  it  may  safely  be  affirmed 
that  even  this  negative  plan  would  succeed  far  better  than  a 
studied  modulation.  But  it  is  evident  that  if  any  one  wishes 
to  assume  the  speaker  as  far  as  possible,  i.  e.,  to  deliver  a 
written  composition  with  some  degree  of  the  manner  and 
effect  of  one  that  is  extemporaneous,  he  will  have  a  consider- 
able difficulty  to  surmount ;  since  though  this  may  be  called, 
in  a  certain  sense,  the  natural  manner,  it  is  far  from  being 
what  he  will  naturaJly,  i.  e.,  spontaneoush/,  fall  into.  It  is 
by  no  means  natural  for  any  one  to  read  as  if  he  were  not 
reading,  but  speaking.  And  again,  even  when  any  one  is 
reading  what  he  does  not  wish  to  deliver  as  his  own  compo- 
sition, as,  for  instance,  a  portion  of  the  Scriptures,  or  the 
Liturgy,  it  is  evident  that  this  may  be  done  better  or  worse, 
in  infinite  degrees ;  and  that  though  (according  to  the  views 
here  taken)  a  studied  attention  to  the  sounds  uttered,  at  the 
time  of  uttering  them,  leads  to  an  affected  and  offensive  de- 
livery, yet,  on  the  other  hand,  an  utterly  careless  reader 
cannot  be  a  good  one. 


CHAPTER   II. 

ARTIFICIAL  AND  NATURAL  METHODS  COMPARED. 


§1- 

With  a  view  to  perspicuity  then — the  first  requisite  in  all 
delivery,  viz.,  that  quality  which  makes  the  mean-  Readin 

ing  fully  understood  by  the  hearers  —  the  great 
point  is,  that  the  reader  (to  confine  our  attention  for  the  pre- 
sent to  that  branch)  should  appear  to  understand  what  he 
reads.     If  the  composition  be,  in  itself,  intelligible  to  the 


312  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

persons  addressed,  he  will  make  them  fully  understand  it,  by 
so  delivering  it.  But  to  this  end,  it  is  not  enough  that  he 
should  himself  actually  understand  it;  it  is  possible,  not- 
withstanding, to  read  it  as  if  he  did  not.  And  in  like  manner 
with  a  view  to  the  quality,  which  has  been  here  called  energy, 
it  is  not  sufficient  that  he  should  himself  feel,  and  be  im- 
pressed with  the  force  of  what  he  utters ;  he  may,  notwith- 
standing, deliver  it  as  if  he  were  unimpressed. 

§2. 

The  remedy  that  has  been  commonly  proposed  for  these 
defects,  is  to  point  out  in  such  a  work,  for  instance,  as  the 
Liturgy,  which  words  ought  to  be  marked  as  emphatic — in 
what  places  the  voice  is  to  be  suspended,  raised,  lowered,  etc. 
Sheridan.  ^^®  ^^  *^^  ^^^^  Writers  on  the  subject,  Sheridan, 
in  his  "Lectures  on  the  Art  of  Reading,^^* 
(whose  remarks  on  many  points  coincide  with  the  principles 
here  laid  down,  though  he  diflfers  from  me  on  the  main  ques- 
tion— as  to  the  system  to  be  practically  followed  with  a  view 
to  the  proposed  object,)  adopted  a  peculiar  set  of  marks  for 
denoting  the  dififerent  pauses,  emphases,  etc.,  and  applied 
these,  with  accompanying  explanatory  observations,  to  the 
greater  part  of  the  Liturgy,  and  to  an  essay  subjoined  ;f  re- 
commending that  the  habit  should  be  formed  of  regulating 
the  voice  by  his  marks ;  and  that  afterwards  readers  should 
"  write  out  such  parts  as  they  want  to  deliver  properly,  with- 
out any  of  the  usual  stops;  and,  after  having  considered 
them  well,  mark  the  pauses  and  emphases  by  the  new  signs 
which  have  been  annexed  to  them,  according  to  the  best  of 
their  judgment,"  etc. 

To  the  adoption  of  any  such  artificial  scheme  there  are 
three  weighty  objections :  first,  that  the  proposed  system 
must  necessarily  be  imperfect ;  secondly,  that  if  it  were  per- 
fect, it  would  be  a  circuitous  path  to  the  object  in  view;  and 


*  See  note,  ch.  i.,  $  3.  It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  most 
of  the  objections  I  have  adduced  do  not  apply  to  this  or  that  system 
in  particular ;  to  Sheridan's,  for  instance,  as  distinguished  from 
Walker's ;  but  to  all  such  systems  generally ;  as  may  be  seen  from 
what  is  said  in  the  present  section. 

f  See  Appendix,  [N.] 


CH.  II.,  §  2.]  ELOCUTION.  313 

thirdly,  that  even  if  both  these  objections  were  removed  the 
object  would  not  be  effectually  obtained.  ' 

First,  such  a  system  must  necessarily  be  imperfect;  be- 
cause though  the  emphatic  word  in  each  sentence 
may  easily  be  pointed  out  in  writing,  no  variety    Jf'Sfe  artifi-"^ 
of   marks    that   could   be   invented  —  not   even    eiaisys- 
musical  notation* — would  suffice  to  indicate  the    *^"^' 
different  to7ies-\  in  which  the  different  emphatic  words  should 
be  pronounced ;  though  on  this  depends  frequently  the  whole 
force  and  even  sense  of  the  expression.     Take,  as  an  in- 
stance, the  words  of  Macbeth  in  the  witches'  cave,  when  he 
is  addressed  by  one  of  the  spirits  which  they  raise,  "  Mac- 
beth !  Macbeth  !  Macbeth  !''  on  which  he  exclaims,  '^  Had  I 
three  ears,  IM  hear  thee;''  no  one  would  dispute  that  the 
stress  is  to  be  laid  on  the  word  '^  three  f  and  thus  much 
might  be  indicated  to  the  reader's  eye ;  but  if  he  had  no- 
thing else  to  trust  to,  he  might  chance  to  deliver  the  passage 
m  such  a  manner  as  to  be  utterly  absurd ;  for  it  is  possible 
to  pronounce  the  emphatic  word  "three"  in  such  a  tone  as 
to  indicate  that  "  since  he  has  but  two  ears,  he  cannot  hear." 
Again,  the  following  passage,  (Mark  iv.  21,)  "  Is  a  candle 
brought  to  be  put  under  a  bushel,  or  under  a  bed,"  I  have 
heard  so  pronounced  as  to  imply  that  there  is  7io  other  alter- 
native ;  and  yet  the  emphasis  was  laid  on  the  right  words.    It 
would  be  moreover  a  task  almost  equally  hopeless  to  attempt 
adequately  to  convey,  by  any  written  marks,  precise  directions 
as  to  the  rate — the  degree  of  rapidity  or  slowness — with 
which  each  sentence  and  clause  should  bo  delivered.    Longer 
and  shorter  pauses  may  indeed  be  easily  denoted ;  and  marks 
may  be  used,  similar  to  those  in  music,  to  indicate,  generally, 
quick,  slow,  or  moderate  time;  but  it  is  evident  that  the 
variations  which  actually  take  place  are  indefinite— far  be- 
yond what  any  marks  could  suggest;  and  that  much  of  the 
force  of  what  is  said  depends  on  the  degree  of  rapidity  with 
which  it  is  uttered ;  chiefly  on  the  relative  rapidity  of  one 
part  in  comparison  of  another.     For  instance,  in  such  a  sen- 
tence  as  the  following,  in  one  of  the  Psalms,  which  one  may 

*  And  even  in  music,  the  notation,  though  so  much  more  complete 
than  any  that  could  be  adapted  to  speaking,  yet  leaves  much  to  bo 
supplied  by  the  intelligence,  taste,  and  feeling  of  the  performer. 

t  Sec  first  note,  eh.  i.,  §  3. 


314  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

usually  hear  read  at  one  uniform  rate :  "All  men  that  see  it 
shall  say,  This  hath  God  done ;  for  they  shall  perceive  that 
it  is  his  work  -,"  the  four  words,  '^  this  hath  God  done," 
though  monosyllables,  ought  to  occupy  very  little  less  time  in 
utterance  than  all  the  rest  of  the  verse  together. 

2dly.  But  were  it  even  possible  to  bring  to  the  highest 

perfection  the  proposed  system  of  marks,  it  would 
ness^of'tiie  Still  be  a  circuitous  road  to  the  desired  end.  Sup- 
artificiai  sys-     pose  it  could  be  Completely  indicated  to  the  eye, 

in  what  tone  each  word. and  sentence  should  be 
pronounced  according  to  the  several  occasions,  the  learner 
might  ask,  "  But  ivh?/  should  this  tone  suit  the  awful — this 
the  pathetic — this  the  narrative  style  ?  lohi/  is  this  mode  of 
delivery  adopted  for  a  command — this  for  an  exhortation — 
this  for  a  supplication  V  etc.  The  only  answer  that  could 
be  given  is,  that  these  tones,  emphases,  etc.,  are  a  part  of  the 
language;  that  nature,  or  custom,  which  is  a  second  nature, 
suggests  spontaneously  these  different  modes  of  giving  ex- 
pression to  the  different  thoughts,  feelings,  and  designs  which 
are  present  to  the  mind  of  any  one  who,  without  study,  is 
speaking  in  earnest  his  own  sentiments.  Then,  if  this  be 
the  case,  why  not  leave  nature  to  do  her  own  work  ?  Impress 
but  the  mind  fully  with  the  sentiments,  etc.,  to  be  uttered; 
withdraw  the  attention  from  the  sound,  and  fix  it  on  the 
sense;  and  nature,  or  habit,  will  spontaneously  suggest  the 
proper  delivery.  That  this  will  be  the  case,  is  not  only  true, 
but  is  the  very  supposition  on  which  the  artificial  system  pro- 
ceeds; for  it  professes  to  teach  the  mode  of  deliYery  naturally 
adapted  to  each  occasion.  It  is  surely,  therefore,  a  circuit- 
ous path  that  is  proposed,  when  the  learner  is.  directed,  first 
to  consider  how  each  passage  ought  to  be  read;  i.  e.,  what 
mode  of  delivering  each  part  of  it  would  siJontayieously  occur 
to  him,  if  he  were  attending  exclusively  to  the  matter  of  it; 
(and  this  is  what,  it  appears  to  me,  should  alone  be  studied, 
and  most  attentively  studied;)  then,  to  observe  all  the  modu- 
lations, etc.,  of  voice,  which  take  place  in  such  a  delivery; 
then,  to  note  these  down,  by  establishing  marks,  in  writing; 
and,  lastly,  to  pronounce  according  to  these  marks.  This 
seems  like  recommending,  for  the  purpose  of  raising  the 
hand  to  the  mouth,  that  he  should  first  observe,  when  per- 
forming that  action  without  thought  of  any  thing  else,  what 


CH.  II.,  §  3.]  ELOCUTION.  315 

muscles  are  contracted — in  what  degrees — and  in  what  order ; 
then,  that  he  should  note  down  these  observations;  and 
lastly,  that  he  should,  in  conformity  with  these  notes,  con- 
tract each  muscle  in  due  degree  and  in  proper  order ;  to  the 
end  that  he  may  be  enabled,  after  all,  to — lift  his  hand  to  his 
mouth ;  which  by  supposition  he  had  already  done.  Such" 
instruction  is  like  that  bestowed  by  Moli^re's  pedantic  tutor 
upon  his  Bourgeois  GentUhomnie,  who  was  taught,  to  his  in- 
finite surprise  and  delight,  what  configurations  of  the  mouth 
he  employed  in  pronouncing  the  several  letters  of  the  alpha- 
bet, which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  utter  all  his  life,  with- 
out knowing  how.* 

3.  Lastly,  waiving  both  the  above  objections,  if  a  person 
could  learn  thus  to  read  and  speak,  as  it  were,  hy 
note,  with  the  same  fluency  and  accuracy  as  are    of  IJ^I^Jtion 
attainable  in  the  case  of  singing,  still  the  desired    resulting 
object  of  a  -^QxiaatXy  natural  as  well  as  correct    ficMsystein." 
elocution  would  never  be  in  this  way  attained. 
The  reader's  attention  being  fixed  on  his  own  voice,  (which 
in  singing,  and  there  only,  is  allowed  and  expected,)  the  in- 
evitable consequence  would  be  that  he  would  betray  more  or 
less  his  studied  and  artificial  delivery;  and  would,  in  the 
same  degree,  manifest  an  offensive  affectation. 

It  should  be  observed,  however,  that,  in  the  reading  of 
the  Liturgy  especially,  so  many  gross  faults  are  become  quite 
familiar  to  many,  from  what  they  are  accustomed  to  hear,  if 
not  from  their  own  practice,  as  to  render  it  peculiarly  difii- 
cult  to  unlearn  or  even  detect  them ;  and  as  an  aid  towards 
the  exposure  of  such  faults,  there  may  be  great  advantage  in 
studying  Sheridan's  observations  and  directions  respecting 
the  delivery  of  it ;  provided  care  b«  taken,  in  practice,  to 
keep  clear  of  his  faulty  principle,  by  withdrawing  the  atten- 
tion from  the  sound  of  the  voice,  as  carefully  as  he  recom- 
mends it  to  be  directed  to  that  point. 

§3. 
The  practical  rule  then  to  be  adopted,  in  conformity  with 

"'  ^^Qu'est-ce  que  vous  faitea  quand  vous  prononcez  Of  Mais,  je  disy 
(7/" — an  answer  which,  if  not  savoring  of  philosophical  analysis, 
gave  at  least  a  good  practical  solution  of  the  problem. 


316  ELEMENTS   OP  RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

the  principles  here  maintained,  is,  not  only  to  pay  no  studied 
Natural  man-  attention  to  the  voice,  but  studiously  to  with- 
ner,  how  to  draw  the  thoughts  from  it,  and  to  dwell  as  in- 
e  secure  .  Gently  as  possible  on  the  sense,  trusting  to  nature 
to  suggest  spontaneously  the  proper  emphases  and  tones. 

Many  persons  are  so  far  impressed  with  the  truth  of  the 
doctrine  here  inculcated,  as  to  acknowledge  that  ''  it  is  a  great 
fault  for  a  reader  to  be  too  much  occupied  with  thoughts  re- 
specting his  own  voice ;''  and  thus  they  think  to  steer  a  mid- 
dle course  between  opposite  extremes.  But  it  should  be  re- 
membered that  this  middle  course  entirely  nullifies  the  whole 
advantage  proposed  by  the  plan  recommended.  A  reader  is 
sure  to  pay  too  much  attention  to  his  voice,  not  only  if  he 
pays  any  at  all,  but  if  he  does  not  strenuously  lahor  to  loith- 
draw  his  attention  from  it  altogether. 

He  who  not  only  understands  fully  what  he  is  reading,  but 
is  earnestly  occupying  his  mind  with  the  matter  of  it,  will  be 
likely  to  read  as  if  he  understood  it,  and  thus  to  make  others 
understand  it  ;*  and  in  like  manner,  with  a  view  to  the  mi- 
pressiveness  of  the  delivery,  he  who  not  only  feels  it,  but  is 
exclusively  absorbed  with  that  feeling,  will  be  likely  to  read 
as  if  he  felt  it,  and  to  communicate  the  impression  to  his 
hearers.  But  this  cannot  be  the  case  if  he  is  occupied  with 
the  thought  of  what  their  opinion  will  be  of  his  reading, 
and  how  his  voice  ought  to  be  regulated ',  if,  in  short,  he  is 
thinking  of  himself,  and,  of  course,  in  the  same  degree,  ab- 
stracting his  attention  from  that  which  ought  to  occupy  it 
exclusively. 

It  is  not,  indeed,  desirable,  that  in  reading  the  Bible,  for 

^  Who,  for  instance,  that  was  really  thinhing  of  a  resurrection 
from  the  dead,  would  ever  tell  any  one  that  our  Lord  "rose  agaiti 
from  the  dead,"  (which  is  so  common  a  mode  of  reading  the  Creed,) 
as  if  He  had  done  so  more  than  once  ? 

It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  it  is  not  enough  for  a  reader  to 
have  his  mind  fixed  on  the  subject ;  without  regard  to  the  occasion, 
etc.  It  is  possible  to  read  a  prayer  well,  with  the  tone  and  manner 
of  a  man  who  is  not  praying,  i.  e.,  addressing  the  Deity,  but  address- 
ing the  audience,  and  reciting  a  form  of  words  for  their  instruction ; 
and  such  is  generally  the  case  with  those  who  are  commended  as 
"fine  readers"  of  the  Liturgy.  Extemporaneous  prayers,  again, 
are  generally  delivered,  with  spirit  indeed,  but  (after  the  first  few 
sentences)  not  as  prayers,  but  as  exhortations  to  the  congregation. 


cir.  II.,  §  4.]  ELOCUTION.  ^  317 

example,  or  any  thing  which  is  not  intended  to  appear  as  his 
own  composition,  he  should  deliver  what  are,  avowedly,  an- 
other's sentiments,  in  the  same  style  as  if  they  wore  such  as 
arose  in  his  own  mind ;  but  it  is  desirable  that  ho  should  de- 
liver them  as  if  he  were  reporthig  another's  sentiments, 
which  were  both  fully  understood  and  felt  in  all  their  force 
by  the  reporter ;  and  the  only  way  to  do  this  effectually — 
with  such  modulations  of  voice,  etc.,  as  are  suitable  to  each 
word  and  passage — is  to  fix  his  mind  earnestly  on  the  mean- 
ing, and  leave  nature  and  habit  to  suggest  the  utterance. 

§4. 

Some  may,  perhaps,  suppose  that  this  amounts  to  the  same 
thing  as  taking  no  pains  at  all;  and  if,  with  this    -n-ffl    ,,•     • 
impression,  they  attempt  to  try  the  experiment    the  natural 
of  a  natural  delivery,  their  ill-success  will  proba-    "^^""^^■• 
bly  lead  them  to  censure  the  proposed  method,  for  the  failure 
resulting  from  their  own  mistake.      In  truth,  it  is  by  no 
means  a  very  easy  task  to  fix  the  attention  on  the  meaning, 
in  the  manner  and  to  the  degree  now  proposed.    The  thoughts 
of  one  who  is  reading  any  thing  very  familiar  to  him  are 
apt  to  wander  to  other  subjects,  though  perhaps  such  as  are 
connected  with  that  which  is  before  him.     If,  again,  it  be 
something  new  to  him,  he  is  apt  (not  indeed  to  wander  to 
another  subject,  but)  to  get  the  start,  as  it  were,  of  his 
readers,  and  to  be  thinking,  while  uttering  each  sentence,  not 
of  that,  but  of  the  sentence  which  comes  next.     And  in 
both  cases,  if  he  is  careful  to  avoid  those  faults,  and  is  de- 
sirous of  reading  well,  it  is  a  matter  of  no  small  difficulty, 
and  calls  for, a  constant  effort,  to  prevent  the  mind  from  wan- 
dering in  another  direction;  viz.,  into  thoughts  respecting 
his  own  voice — respecting  the  efi'ect  produced  by  each  sound 
— -the  approbation  he  hopes  for  from  the  hearers,  etc.     And 
this  is  the  prevailing  fault  of  those  who  are  commonly  said 
to  t^ko  great  pains  in  their  reading;  pains  which  will  always 
be  taken  in  vain  with  a  view  to  the  true  object  to  be  aimed 
at,  as  long  as  the  effort  is  thus  applied  in  a  wrong  direction. 
With  a  view,  indeed,  to  a  very  different  object,  the  approba- 
tion bestowed  on  the  reading,  this  artificial  delivery  will  often 
be  more  successful  than  the  natural.    Pompous  spouting,  and 
many  other  descriptions  of  unnatural  tone  and  measured 


318  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

cadence,  are  frequently  admired  by  many  as  excellent  read- 
ing; which  admiration  is  itself  a  proof  that  it  is  not  de- 
served; for  when  the  delivery  is  really  good,  the  hearers 
(except  any  one  who  may  deliberately  set  himself  to  observe 
and  criticize)  never  think  about  it,  but  are  exclusively  occu- 
pied with  the  sense  it  conveys,  and  the  feelings  it  excites.     ' 

Still  more  to  increase  the  difficulty  of  the  method  here 
recommended,  (for  it  is  no  less  wise  than  honest 
of  imitation  to  take  a  fair  view  of  difficulties^)  this  circum- 
Fhe*adopti0if  stance  is  to  be  noticed,  that  he  who  is  endeavor- 
of  the  natural  ing  to  bring  it  into  practice,  is  in  a  great  degree 
mannei.  precluded  from  the  advantage  of  imitation.     A 

person  who  hears  and  approves  a  good  reader  in  the  natural 
manner,  may,  indeed,  so  far  imitate  him  with  advantage,  as 
to  adopt  his  plan,  of  fixing  his  attention  on  the  matter,  and 
not  thinking  about  his  voice ;  but  this  very  plan,  evidently, 
by  its  nature,  precludes  any  further  imitation ;  for  if,  while 
reading,  he  is  thinking  of  copying  the  manner  of  his  model, 
he  will,  for  that  very  reason,  be  unlike  that  model ;  the  main 
principle  of  the  proposed  method  being,  carefully  to  exclude 
every  such  thought.  Whereas,  any  artificial  system  may  as 
easily  be  learned  by  imitation  as  the  notes  of  a  song. 

Practice  also  (i.  e.,  private  practice  for  the  sake  of  learn- 
ing) is  much  more  difficult  in  the  proposed 
of^practl?  method ;  because,  the  rule  being  to  use  such  a 
less  easily  ob-  delivery  as  is  suited,  not  only  to  the  matter  of 
adoption  of  ^  what  is  Said,  but  also,  of  course,  to  the  place  and 
the  natural       occasion,  and  this,  not  by  any  studied  modula- 

manner.  .  '  '  -, 

tions,  but  according  to  the  spontaneous  sugges- 
tions of  the  matter,  place,  and  occasion,  to  one  .whose  mind 
is  fully  and  exclusively  occupied  with  these,  it  follows,  that 
he  who  would  practice  this  method  in  private,  must,  by  a 
strong  effort  of  a  vivid  imagination,  figure  to  himself  a  place 
and  an  occasion  which  are  not  present;  otherwise,  he  will 
either  be  thinking  of  his  delivery^  (which  is  fatal  to  his  pro- 
posed object,)  or  else  will  use  a  delivery  suited  to  the  situa- 
tion in  which  he  actually  is,  and  not  to  that  for  which  he 
would  prepare  himself.  Any  system,  on  the  contrary,  of 
studied  emphasis  and  regulation  of  the  voice,  may  be  learned 
in  private  practice,  as  easily  as  singing. 


CH.  II.,  §  5.]  ELOCUTION.  319 

§5. 

It  has  been  thought  best,  as  has  been  above  said,  to  state 
fairly  the   difficulties    of  a  regular  training  in    importance 
really  good    elocution;    not,   of  course,  with    a    of  practice  in 
view  to  discourage  exertion  for  an  object  so  im-    ^  ^^"  ^^^' 
portant,  but  as  a  reason  for  laboring  the  more  sedulously  to 
overcome  those  difficulties. 

In  fact,  nothing  tends  more  to  discourage  assiduous  study 
in  this  department,  than  the  ill-effect  produced  by  the  faulty 
methods  commonly  in  use.  For  when  it  is  found — as  it  too 
often  will  be — that  those  who  have  taken  most  pains  in  the 
study,  acquit  themselves  even  worse  than  those  who  have 
wholly  neglected  it,  the  natural  result  will  be,  that,  instead 
of  inquiring  whether  a  better  plan  might  not  be  adopted, 
men  will  be  apt  to  sit  down  contented  with  the  ordinary 
slovenly  style  of  delivery,  supposing  that  whatever  superiority 
any  one  may  manifest  is  altogether  a  gift  of  nature. 

Accordingly,  little  or  no  care  is  usually  taken,  either  in 
schools  or  in  private  families,  to  teach  young  persons  to  read 
well.  What  is  called  the  "English  master'^  in  most  semi- 
naries, is  usually  a  person  of  very  humble  qualifications  ',  and, 
for  the  most  part,  either  contents  himself  with  making  his 
pupils  •"  mind  their  stops,"  or  else  teaches  them  an  affected 
spout.  And  the  consequence  is,  that,  of  men  otherwise  well 
educated,  a  considerable  number  are  found  to  have  acquired 
an  offensively  artificial  delivery,  and  a  far  greater  number  a 
habit  of  reading  as  if  they  neither  felt  nor  even  understood 
what  they  read. 

And  even  men  of  good  sense  and  good  taste  often  acquire, 
^Jirough  undesigned  and  unconscious  imitation, 
an  absurd  style  of  readino;  those  passa2:es  which   Unconscious 

^,         1  ^  n  •/>  1  111  imitation  ot 

they  have  been  irom  miancy  accustomed  to  hear  what  is  faulty. 
ill-read  by  others.  To  the  member  of  our  Church, 
accordingly,  the  difficulty  of  reading  the  Liturgy  with  spirit, 
or  even  with  propriety,  is  greatly  enhanced  by  the  long- 
established  and  inveterate  faults  to  which  almost  every  one's 
ears  are  become  familiar;  so  that  such  a  delivery  as  would 
shock  any  one  of  even  moderate  taste,  in  any  other  composi- 
tion, he  will,  in  this,  be  likely  to  tolerate,  and  to  practice. 
Some,  e.  g.,  in  the  Litany,  read,  "  Have  mercy  upon  us,  mis- 


320  ELEMENTS   OP  RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

erable  sinners ;"  and  others,  "  Have  mercy  upon  us,  miserable 
sinners  '/'  both,  laying  the  stress  on  a  wrong  word,  and  mak- 
ing the  pause  in  the  wrong  place,  so  as  to  disconnect  ''us'' 
and  ^'  miserable  sinners  '/'  which  the  context  requires  us  to 
combine.  Every  one,  in  expressing  his  own  natural  senti- 
ments, would  say,  ''  Have  mercy  upon  us  miserable  sinners.^' 

Many  are  apt  even  to  commit  so  gross  an  error  as  to  lay 
the  chief  stress  on  the  words  which  denote  the  most  import- 
ant things  ;  without  any  consideration  of  the  emphatic  loord 
of  each  sentence ;  e.  g.,  in  the  Absolution,  many  read,  ''  Let 
us  beseech  Him  to  grant  us  true  repentance ;''  because,  for- 
sooth, "true  repentance ''  is  an  important  thing;  not  consid- 
ering that,  as  it  has  been  just  mentioned,  it  is  not  the  new 
idea,  and  that  to  which  the  atrtention  should  be  directed  by 
the  emphasis ',  the  sense  being,  that  since  Grod  pardoneth  all 
that  have  true  repentance,  therefore  we  should  ''  beseech  Him 
to  grant  it  to  us^ 

In  addition  to  the  other  difficulties  of  reading  the  Liturgy 
well,  it  should  be  mentioned,  that  prayer,  thanksgiving,  and 
the  like,  even  when  avowedly  not  of  our  own  composition, 
should  be  delivered  as  (what  in  truth  they  ought  to  he)  the 
genuine  sentiments  of  our  own  minds  at  the  moment  of  utter- 
ance ;  which  is  not  the  case  with  the  Scriptures,  or  with  any 
thing  else  that  is  read,  not  professing  to  be  the  speaker's  own 
composition. 

But  the  department  of  education  I  am  speaking  of,  instead 
of  being  intrusted  to  such  persbns  as  usually  conduct  it,  is 
one  which  calls  for  the  assiduous  attention  of  some  one  well 
qualified  in  point  of  good  taste  and  sound  judgment.  Let 
young  persons  be  accustomed  much  to  reading 
mSs  of  aloud  to  a  parent  or  other  teacher  thus  qualified, 
teaching  the  and  who  shall  be  ready  to  point  out  and  correct 
points  of  any  faults  they  may  commit;  and  let  this  be  done 

fion^  ^^^^^'  in  strict  conformity  with  the  principles  above  laid 
'  down.     Let  the  instructor,  accordingly,  remem- 

ber that  the  pupil's  attention  is  then,  and  then  only,  to  be 
called  to  the  sounds  uttered,  when  the  fault  is  one  which  he 
would  wish  corrected  (and  which  indeed  he  should  be  ready 
to  correct)  in  the  utterance  of  ordinary  conversation.  E.  g., 
many  young  persons  have  habits — and  such  as  not  seldom  grow 
up  with  them — either  of  an  indistinct  pronunciation,  which 


CH.  II.,  §  5.]  ELOCUTION.  821 

makes  the  vowels  audible,  while  the  consonants  are  slurred,* 
or  of  dropping  the  voice  toward  the  close  of  each  sentence 
so  as  to  be  nearly  inaudible,  or  of  rising  into  a  scream,  or  of 
too  rapid  and  hurried  an  utterance,  or  of  some  provincial 
vulgarity,  etc.  All  such  faults  should,  as  has  been  said,  be 
corrected  not  in  reading  only,  but  in  ordinary  speaking. 

But  on  the  other  hand,  all  those  faults  of  delivery  which, 
though  common  in  reading,  do  not  occur  in  ordinary  speak- 
ing, constitute  a  distinct  class,  and  must  be  carefully  indeed 
corrected,  but  in  a  totally  different  manner.  For  hardly  any 
one  in  ordinary  conversation  speaks  as  if  he  did  not  under- 
stand, or  did  not  really  mean,  what  he  is  saying.  In  refer- 
ence therefore  to  correct  reading,  (in  respect  of  the  sense,) 
and  impressive  reading — such  as  shall  convey  the  true  import 
and  full  force  of  what  is  said — the  appeal  must  be  made  to 
the  learner's  own  mind ;  and  his  attention  should  be  drawn 
from  the  sound,  to  the  sense  of  what  he  is  reading.  And 
the  instructor  should  give  admonitions,  when  needed,  not,  as 
in  the  other  case,  by  saying,  "  You  have  pronounced  that 
word  wrong;  pronounce  it  so  and  so;"  or  ''You  read  too 
quick,'^  etc. ;  but  "  Read  that  passage  as  if  you  understood 
it :  read  this  suitably  to  a  command,  that  to  an  interrogation, 
etc. :  express  the  scorn,  the  exultation,  the  earnestness,  etc., 
of  that  passage,  as  if  you  were  expressing  such  a  feeling  of 
your  own  in  your  own  words,"  etc. 

That  such  an  exercise  as  this,  under  a  judicious  guide,  will 
have  most  beneficial  results,  i  am  convinced  from  experience. 
And  if  the  study  of  Elocution,  thus  conducted,  were  made, 
as  it  manifestly  ought  to  be,  an  indispensable  part  of  a  liberal 
education,  I  have  no  doubt  that  good  reading  would  be  no 
longer  the  exception,  but  the  rule.  For  though  the  method 
I  have  been  recommending  will  not,  as  I  have  said,  so  readily 
and  so  easily  accomplish  its  object  as  the  opposite  method 
does  its  own  object,  on  the  other  hand  this  latter  is  in  reality 
no  benefit  at  all,  but  a  great  evil ;  while,  on  the  other  plan,^ 
the  student  is  at  least  put  on  the  right  course,  and  will  be  in 
the  way  of  indefinitely  improving  himself  in  after-life. 

It  is  almost  superfluous  to  remark,  how  utterly  at  variance 

*  A  useful  maxim  as  to  this  point  is,  to  "take  care  of  the  conso- 
nants, and  the  vowels  will  take  care  of  themselves." 
11 


322  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

with  all  that  I  have  been  here  recommending  is  the  practice 
of  setting  children  to  learn  by  heart  and  recite, 
rote!^^^^^^  before  they  are  able  to  understand,  poems,  chap- 
ters of  the  Bible,  collects,  etc.,  to  which  they 
attach  little  or  no  meaning,  while  they  repeat  the  words  by 
rote.  A  habit  of  reading  in  an  artificial  tone,  ofi"ensive  to 
those  of  good  taste,  and  tending  to  impair  the  force  of  what 
is  so  read,  is  one  natural  result — though  far  from  the  worst* 
— of  such  a  practice.  If  any  who  have  been  thus  brought 
up  are  found,  in  after-life,  to  have  a  good  elocution — and,  I 
may  add,  to  have  their  intellectual  and  moral  powers  unim- 
paired— this  must  be,  not  in  consequence  of  such  a  training, 
but  in  spite  of  it. 


CHAPTEK  III. 

CONSIDERATIONS  ARISING  FROM  THE  DIFFERENCES  BETWEEN 
READING  AND   SPEAKING. 


Some  additional  objections  to  the  method  I  have  recom- 
mended, and  some  further  remarks  on  the  counterbalancing 
advantages  of  it,  will  be  introduced  presently,  when  I  shall 
have  first  offered  some  observations  on  speaki7ig,  and  on  that 
branch  of  reading  which  the  most  nearly  approaches  to  it. 

When  any  one  delivers  a  written  composition,  of  which  he 
is,  or  is  supposed  to  profess  himself,  the  author,  he  has  pecu- 
liar dijfficulties  to  encounter,  if  his  object  be  to  approach  as 
nearly  as  possible  to  the  extemporaneous  style.  It  is  indeed 
impossible  to  produce  the  full  effect  of  that  style,  while  the 
audience  are  aware  that  the  words  he  utters  are  before  him; 
but  he  may  approach  indefinitely  near  to  such  an  effect ;  and 
in  proportion  as  he  succeeds  in  this  object,  the  impression 
produced  will  be  the  greater. 

It  has  been  already  remarked,  how  easy  it  is  for  the  hearers 

*  See  Appendix,  [0.] 


CII.  III.,  §  l.J  ELOCUTION.  323 

to  keep  up  their  attention — indeed,  how  difficult  for  them  to 
withdraw  it — when  they  are  addressed  by  one 
who  is  really  speaking  to  them  in  a  natural  and   Comparative 
earnest  manner;  though  perhaps  the  discourse   written m?d^^ 
may  be  encumbered  with  a  good  deal  of  the  re-  addr'"  s"''^'^^ 
petition,  awkwardness  of  expression,  and  other 
faults,  incident  to  extemporaneous  language;  and  though  it 
be  prolonged  for  an  hour  or  two,  and"  yet  contain   no  more 
matter  than  a  good  ivriter  could  have  clearly  expressed  in  a 
discourse  of  half  an  hour;  which  last,  if  read  to  them,  would 
not,  without  some  eflPort  on  their  part,  have  so  fully  detained 
their  attention.     The  advantage  in  point  of  style,  arrange- 
ment, etc.,  of  written  over  extemporaneous  discourses,  (such 
at  least  as  any  but  the  most  accomplished  orators  can  pro- 
duce,) is  sufficiently  evident  ;*  and  it  is  evident  also  that  other 
advantages,  such  as  have  been  just  alluded  to,  belong  to  the 
latter.     Which  is  to  be  preferred  on  each  occasion,"and  by 
each  orator,  it  does  not  belong  to  the  present  discussion  to  in- 
quire ;  but  it  is  evidently  of  the  highest  importance  to  com- 
bine, as  far  as  possible,  in  each  case^  the  advantages  of  both. 
A  perfect  familiarity  with  the  rules  laid  down  m  the  First 
Part  of  this  treatise,  would  be  likely,  it  is  hoped,  to  give  the 
extemporaneous  orator  that  habit  of  quickly  methodizing  his 
thoughts  on  a  given  subject,  which  is  essential  (at  least  where 
no  very  long  premeditation  is  allowed)  to  give  to  a  speech 
something  of  the  weight  of  argument,  and  clearness  of  ar- 
rangement, which  characterfze  good  writing.f     In  order  to 

*  Practice  in  public  speaking  generally— practice  in  speaking  on 
the- particular  subject  in  hand— and  (on  each  occasion)  premedita- 
tion of  the  matter,  and  arrangement,  are  all  circumstances  of  great 
consequence  to  a  speaker. 

Nothing  but  a  miraculous  gift  can  supersede  these  advantages.  The 
apostles,  accordingly,  were  forbidden  to  use  any  premeditation,  being 
assured  that  it  "should  be  given  them,  in  that  same  hour,  what  they 
should  say ;"  and,  when  they  found,  in  effect,  this  promise  fulfilled 
to  them,  they  had  experience,  within  themselves,  of  a  sensible  miracle. 

t  Accordmgly,  it  may  be  remarked,  that,  (contrary  to  what  might 
at  first  sight  be  supposed,)  though  the  preceding  Parts,  as  well  as  the 
present,  are  intended  for  general  application,  yet  it  is  to  the  extem- 
porary speaker  that  the  rules  laid  down  in  the  former  Part  (suppos- 
ing them  correct)  will  be  the  most  peculiarly  useful ;  while  the  suo-, 
gestions  offered  in  this  last,  respecting  Elocution,  are  more  especiany 
designed  for  the  use  of  the  reader. 


324:  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

attain  the  corresponding  advantage — to  impart  to  the  delivery 
of  a  written  discourse  something  of  the  vivacity  and  inter- 
esting effect  of  real,  earnest  speaking — the  plan  to  be  pur- 
sued, conformably  with  the  principles  I  have  been  maintain- 
ing, is,  for  the  reader  to  draw  off  his  mind  as  much  as  possible 
from  the  thought  that  he  is  reading,  as  well  as  from  all 
thought  respecting  his  own  utterance;  to  fix  his  mind  as 
earnestly  as  possible  on  the  matter,  and  to  strive  to  adopt  as 
his  own,  and  as  his  own  at  the  moment  of  utterance,  every 
sentiment  he  delivers ;  and  to  say  it  to  the  audience,  in  the 
manner  which  the  occasion  and  subject  spontaneously  suggest 
to  him  who  has  abstracted  his  mind  both  from  all  considera- 
tions of  himself  J  and  from  the  consideration  that  he  is  read- 
ing. 

§2. 

The  advantage  of  this  natural  manner — i.  e.,  the  man- 
ner which  one  naturally  falls  into  who  is  really 

Most  men  ^  .        .  j.  i       '.i  •    j  7      •     7 

speak  well  in  Speaking  in  earnest,  and  with  a  mind  exclusivebj 
common  dis-  intent  on  what  he  has  to  say — may  be  estimated 
from  this  consideration :  that  there  are  few  (as 
was  remarked  in  the  preceding  chapter)  who  do  not  speah  so 
as  to  give  effect  to  what  they  are  saying.  Some,  indeed,  do 
this  much  better  than  others.  Some  have,  as  I  observed 
above,  in  ordinary  conversation,  an  indistinct  or  incorrect 
pronunciation,  an  embarrassed  and  hesitating  utterance,  or  a 
bad  choice  of  words ;  but  hardly  any  one  fails  to  deliver 
(when  speaking  earnestly)  what  he  does  say,  so  as  to  convey 
the  sense  and  the  force  of  it,  much  more  completely  than 
even  a  good  reader  would,  if  those  same  words  were  written 
down  and  read.  The  latter  might,  indeed,  be  more  approved  ; 
but  that  is  not  the  present  question  -,  which  is,  concerning 
the  impression  made  on  the  hearers'  minds.  It  is  not  the 
polish  of  the  blade  that  is  to  be  considered,  or  the  grace 
with  which  it  is  brandished,  but  the  keenness  of  the  edge, 
and  the  weight  of  the  stroke. 

There  is,  indeed,  as  T  have  said,  a  wide  difference  between 
different  men,  in  respect  of  the  degrees  of  impressiveness 
with  which,  in  earnest  conversation,  they  deliver  their  senti- 
ments ',  but  it  may  safely  be  laid  down,  that  he  who  delivers  a 
written  composition  with  the  same  degree  of  spirit  and  energy 


CH.  III.,  §  3.]  •       ELOCUTION.  325 

with  which  ho  would  naturally  speak  on  the  same  subject, 
has  attained,  not  indeed,  necessarily,  absolute  perfection,  but 
the  utmost  excellence  attainable  by  him.  Any  attempt  to 
outdo  his  own  natural  manner,  will  inevitably  lead  to  some- 
thing worse  than  failure. 

On  the  contrary,  it  can  hardly  be  denied  that  the  elocu- 
tion of  most  readers,  even  when  delivering  their  own  com- 
positions, (suppose  in  the  pulpit,)  is  such  as  to  convey  the 
notion,  at  the  very  best,  not  that  the  preacher  is  expressing 
his  own  real  sentiments,  but  that  he  is  making  known  to  his 
audience  what  is  written  in  the  book  before  him ;  and,  whether 
the  composition  is  professedly  the  reader's  own  or  not,  the 
usual  mode  of  delivery,  though  grave  and  decent,  is  so  re- 
mote from  the  energetic  style  of  real  natural  speech,  as  to 
furnish,  if  one  may  so  speak,  a  kind  of  running  comment  on 
all  that  is  uttered,  which  says,  ^'  I  do  not  mean,  think,  or 
feel,  all  this ;  I  only  mean  to  recite  it  with  propriety  and  de- 
corum •/'  and  what  is  usually  called  fine  reading,  only  super- 
adds to  this  (as  has  been  above  remarked)  a  kind  of  admo- 
nition to  the  hearers,  that  they  ought  to  believe,  to  feel,  and 
to  admire,  what  is  read. 

§3. 

It  is  easy  to  anticipate  an  objection  which  many  will  urge 
against  what  they  will  call  a  colloquial  style  of  de-  Natural  man- 
livery ;  viz.,  that  it  is  undio-nified,  and  unsuitable   n^nottobe 

O  /  con  lOUTlClGCl 

to  the  solemnity  of  a  serious,  and  especially  of  a  with  the 
religious  discourse.  The  objection  is  founded  on  *''^"^>^'^^- 
a  mistake.  Those  who  urge  it  derive  all  their  notions  of  a 
natural  delivery  from  two,  irrelevant,  instances :  that  of  or- 
dinary conversation,  the  usual  objects  of  which,  and  conse- 
quently its  usual  tone,  are  comparatively  light ;  and  that  of 
the  coarse  and  extravagant  rant  of  vulgar  fanatical  preachers. 
But  to  conclude  that  the  objections  against  either  of  these 
styles  would  apply  to  the  natural  delivery  of  a  man  of  sense 
and  taste,  speaking  earnestly,  on  a  serious  subject  and  on  a 
solemn  occasion,  or  that  he  would  naturally  adopt,  and  is 
here  advised  to  adopt,  such  a  style  as  those  objected  to,  is  no 
less  absurd  than  if  any  one,  being  recommended  to  walk  in  a 
natural  and  unstudied  manner,  rather  than  in  a  dancing  step, 
(to  employ  Dr.  A.  Smith's  illustration,)  or  a  formal  march,  • 


326  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

should  infer  that  the  natural  gait  of  a  clown  following  the 
plough,  or  of  a  child  in  its  gambols,  were  proposed  as  models 
to  be  imitated  in  walking  across  a  room.  Should  any  one,  on 
being  told  that  both  tragic  acting  and  comic  acting  ought  to 
be  a  natural  repi^esentation  of  man,  interpret  this  to  mean 
that  tragedy  ought  to  be  performed  exactly  like  comedy,  he 
would  be  thought  very  absurd,  if  he  were  supposed  to  be 
speaking  seriously.  It  is  evident,  that  what  is  natural  in 
one  case,  or  for  one  person,  may  be,  in  a  different  one,  very 
unnatural.  It  would  not  be  by  any  means  natural  to  an  edu- 
cated and  sober-minded  man  to  speak  like  an  illiterate  en- 
thusiast ]  or  to  discourse  on  the  most  important  matters  in 
the  tone  of  familiar  conversation  respecting  the  trifling  oc- 
currences of  the  day.  Any  one  who  does  but  notice  the 
style  in  which  a  man  of  ability,  and  of  good  choice  of  words, 
and  utterance,  delivers  his  sentiments  in  private,  when  he  is, 
for  instance,  earnestly  and  seriously  admonishing  a  friend, 
defending  the  truths  of  religion,  or  speaking  on  any  other 
grave  subject  on  which  he  is  intent,  may  easily  observe  how 
different  his  tone  is  from  that  of  light  and  familiar  conversa- 
tion—  how  far  from  deficient  in  the  dignified  seriousness 
which  befits  the  case.  Even  a  stranger  to  the  language 
might  guess  that  he  was  not  engaged  on  any  frivolous  topic. 
And  yet,  when  an  opportunity  occurs  of  observir\^  how  he 
delivers  a  written  discourse,  of  his  own  composition,  on  per- 
haps the  very  same  or  a  similar  subject,  will  it  not  often  be 
perceived  how  comparatively  stiff,  languid,  and  unimpressive 
is  the  effect  ? 

It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  a  sermon  should  not  be  de- 
livered before  a  congregation  assembled  in  a  place  of  worship, 

^,  ,     ,  in  the  same  style  as  one  would  employ  in  con- 

Natural  man-  .  ,   i  i  -.i  i  • 

ner  is  aecom-    versing  across  a  table,  with  equal  seriousness  on 

thep1ace,*sub-  *^®  ^^^^^  Subject.     This  is  undoubtedly  true; 

jeet,  and  oc-     and  it  is  evident  that  it  lias  heen  implied  in  what 

has  here  been  said ;  the  natural  manner  having 

been  described  as  accommodated,  not  only  to  the  subject,  but  to 

the  place,  occasion,  and  all  other  circumstances  ]  so  that  he 

who  should  preach  exactly  as  if  he  were  speaking  in  private, 

though  with  the  utmost  earnestness,  on  the  same  subject, 

would,  so  far,  be  departing  from  the  genuine  natural  manner. 

But  it  may  be  safely  asserted,  that  even  this  would  be  far  the 


CH.  III.,  §  4.]  ELOCUTION.  327 

less  fault  of  the  two.  He  wlio  appears  unmindful,  indeed, 
of  the  place  and  occasion,  but  deeply  impressed  with  the 
subject  J  and  utterly  forgetful  of  himself ^  would  produce  a 
much,  stronger  effect  than  one  who,  going  into  the  opposite 
extreme,  is,  indeed,  mindful  of  the  place  and  the  occasion, 
but  not  fully  occupied  with  the  subject,  (though  he  may 
strive  to  appear  so ;)  being  partly  engaged  in  thoughts  re- 
specting his  own  voice.  The  latter  would,  indeed,  be  the 
less  likely  to  incur  censure ;  but  the  other  would  produce  the 
deeper  impression. 

The  object,  however,  to  be  aimed  at,  (and  it  is  not  un- 
attainable,) is  to  avoid  both  faults:  to  keep  the  mind  im- 
pressed both  with  the  matter  spoken,  and  with  all  the  cir- 
cumstances also  of  each  case ;  so  that  the  voice  may  sponta- 
neously accommodate  itself  to  all;  carefully  avoiding  all 
studied  modulations,  and,  in  short,  all  thoughts  of  .S'?^/"; 
which,  in  proportion  as  they  intrude,  will  not  fail  to  diminish 
the  effect. 

§4. 

It  must  be  admitted,  indeed,  that  the  different  kinds  of 
natural  delivery  of  any  one  individual  on  different 
subjects  and  occasions,  various  as  they  are,  do  deifvery'ono 
yet  bear  a  much  greater  resemblance  to  each  spociesof 
other,  than  any  of  them  does  to  the  artificial 
style  usually  employed  in  reading ;  a  proof  of  which  is,  that 
a  person  familiarly  acquainted  with  the  speaker,  will  seldom 
fail  to  recognize  his  voice,  amidst  all  the  variations  of  it,  when 
he  is  speaking  naturally  and  earnestly ;  though  it  will  often 
happen  that,  if  he  have  never  before  heard  him  read,  he 
will  be  at  a  loss,  when  he  happens  accidentally  to  hear  with- 
out seeing  him,  to  know  who  it  is  that  is  reading ;  so  widely 
does  the  artificial  cadence  and  intonation  differ  in  many  points 
from  the  natural.  And  a  consequence  of  this  is,  that  the 
natural  manner,  however  perfect,  however  exactly  accommo- 
dated to  the  subject,  place,  and  occasion,  will,  even  when 
these  are  the  most  solemn,  in  some  degree  remind  the  hearers 
of  the  tone  of  conversation.  Amidst  all  the  differences  that 
will  exist,  this  one  point  of  resemblance — that  of  the  de- 
livery being  unforced  and  unstudied — will  be  hkely,  in  some 
degree,  to  strike  them.     Those  who  are  good  judges  will 


328  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

perceive  at  once,  and  the  rest,  after  being  a  little  accustomed 
to  the  natural  manner,  that  there  is  not  necessarily  any  thing 
irreverent  or  indecorous  in  it ;  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  it 
conveys  the  idea  of  the  speaker's  being  deeply  impressed  with 
that  which  is  his  proper  business.  But,  for  a  time,  many 
will  be  disposed  to  find  fault  with  such  a  kind  of  elocution; 
and,  in  particular,  to  complain  of  its  indicating  a  want  of 
respect  for  the  audience.  Yet  even  while  this  disadvan- 
tage continues,  a  preacher  of  this  kind  may  be  assured  that 
the  doctrine  he  delivers  is  much  more  forcibly  impressed, 
even  on  those  who  censure  his  style  of  delivering  it,  than  it 
could  be  in  the  other  way. 

A  discourse  delivered  in  this  style  has  been  known  to  elicit 
the  remark,  from  one  of  the  lower  orders,  who  had  never 
been  accustomed  to  any  thing  of  the  kind,  that  "  it  was  an 
excellent  sermon,  and  it  was  a  great  pity  it  had  not  been 
preached :"  a  censure  which  ought  to  have  been  very  satis- 
factory to  the  preacher.  Had  he  employed  a  pompous  spout, 
or  modulated  whine,  it  is  probable  such  an  auditor  would 
have  admired  his  preaching,  but  would  have  known  and 
thought  little  or  nothing  about  the  matter  of  what  was  taught. 

Which  of  the  two  objects  ought  to  be  preferred  by  a 
Christian  minister  on  Christian  principles,  is  a  question, 
not  indeed  hard  to  decide,  but  foreign  to  the  present  dis- 
cussion. It  is  important,  however,  to  remark,  that  an  ora- 
tor is  bound,  as  such,  not  merely  on  moral,  but  (if  such 
an  expression  may  be  used)  on  rhetorical  principles,  to  be 
mainly,  and  indeed  exclusively,  intent  on  carrying  his  point ; 
not  on  gaining  approbation,  or  even  avoiding  censure,  ex- 
cept with  a  view  to  that  point.  He  should,  as  it  were, 
adopt  as  a  motto  the  reply  of  Themistocles  to  the  Spartan 
commander,  Eurybiades,  who  lifted  his  staff  to  chastise  the 
earnestness  with  which  his  own  opinion  was  controverted  : 
"  Strike,  but  hear  me.'' 

I  would  not,  indeed,  undertake  to  maintain  (like  Quinc- 
tilian)  that  no  one  can  be  an  orator  who  is  not  a  virtuous 
man ;  but  there  certainly  is  a  kind  of  moral  excellence  im- 
plied in  that  renunciation  of  all  effort  after  display,  in  that 
forgetfulness  of  self,  which  is  absolutely  necessary,  both  in 
the  manner  of  writing,  and  in  the  delivery,  to  give  the  full 
force  to  what  is  said. 


CH.  III.,  §  G.]  ELOCUTION.  329 

§5. 

Besides  the  inconvenience  just  mentioned — the  censure 
which  the  proposed  style  of  elocution  will  be  liable  to,  from 
perhaps  the  majority  of  hearers,  till  they  shall  have  become 
somewhat  accustomed  to  it — this  circumstance  also  ought  to 
be  mentioned,  as  what  many,  perhaps,  would  reckon  (or  at 
least  feel)  to  be  one  of  the  disadvantages  of  it : 
that,  after  all,  even  when  no  disapprobation  is  manner  not 
incurred,  no  praise  will  be  bestowed,  (except  by  pr-'^ised. 
observant  critics,)  on  a  truly  natural  delivery  j  on  the  con- 
trary, the  more  perfect  it  is,  the  more  will  it  withdraw, 
from  itself,  to  the  arguments  and  sentiments  delivered,  the 
attention  of  all  but  those  who  are  studiously  directing  their 
view  to  the  mode  of  utterance,  with  a  design  to  criticize 
or  to  learn.  The  credit,  on  the  contrary,  of  having  a  very 
fii>e  elocution,  is  to  be  obtained  at  the  expense  of  a  very 
moderate  share  of  pains;  though  at  the  expense,  also, 
inevitably,  of  much  of  the  force  of  what  is  said. 

§6. 

One  inconvenience,  which  will  at  first  be  experienced  by 
a  person  who,  after  having  been  long  accustomed  to  the 
artificial  delivery,  begins  to  adopt  the  natural,  is,  that  he  will 
be  likely  suddenly  to  feel  an  embarrassed,  bash-  Bashfuiness 
ful,  and,  as  it  is  frequently  called,  nervous  sen-  felt  on  first 
sation,  to  which  he  had  before  been  com  para-  thenaSfrai 
tively  a  stranger.  He  will  find  himself  in  a  new  Planner, 
situation — standing  before  his  audience  in  a  different  char- 
acter— stripped,  as  it  were,  of  the  sheltering  veil  of  a  con- 
ventional and  artificial  delivery ;  in  short,  delivering  to  them 
his  thoughts,  as  one  man  speahing  to  other  men;  not,  as 
before,  merely  reading  in  public.  And  he  will  feel  that  he 
attracts  a  much  greater  share  of  their  attention,  not  only  by 
the  novelty  of  a  manner  to  which  most  congregations  are 
little  accustomed,  but  also  (even  supposing  them  to  have 
been  accustomed  to  extemporary  discourses)  from  their  per- 
ceiving themselves  to  be  personally  addressed,  and  feeling  that 
he  is  not  merely  reciting  something  ie/bre  them,  but  saying 
it  to  them.     The  speaker  and  the  hearers  will  thus  be  brought 


330  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART  IV. 

into  a  new  and  closer  relation  to  each  other ;  and  the  in- 
creased interest  thus  excited  in  the  audience,  will  cause  the 
speaker  to  feel  himself  in  a  different  situation — in  one  which 
is  a  greater  trial  of  his  confidence,  and  which  renders  it 
more  difficult  than  before  to  withdraw  his  attention  from 
himself.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  observe  that  this  very 
change  of  feelings  experienced  by  the  speaker  ought  to  con- 
vince him  the  more,  if  the  causes  of  it  (to  which  I  have  just 
alluded)  be  attentively  considered,  how  much  greater  im- 
pression this  manner  is  likely  to  produce.  As  he  will  be 
likely  to  feel  much  of  the  bashfulness  which  a  really  extem- 
porary speaker  has  to  struggle  against,  so  he  may  produce 
much  of  a  similar  effect.* 

After  all,  however,  the  effect  will  never  be  completely  the 
same.  A  composition  delivered  from  writing,  and  one 
actually  extemporaneous,  will  always  produce  feelings,  both 
in  the  hearer  and  the  speaker,  considerably  different;  even 
on  the  supposition  of  their  being  word  for  word  the  same, 
and  delivered  so  exactly  in  the  same  tone,  that  by  the  ear 
alone  no  difference  could  be  detected :  still  the  audience  will 
be  differently  affected,  according  to  their  knowledge  that  the 
words  uttered  are,  or  are  not,  written  down  and  before  the 
speaker's  eyes.  And  the  consciousness  of  this  will  produce 
a  corresponding  effect  on  the  mind  of  the  speaker.  For 
were  this  not  so,  any  one  who,  on  any  subject,  can  speak  (as 
many  can)  fluently  and  correctly  in  private  conversation, 
would  find  no  greater  difficulty  in  saying  the  same  things 

'^  The  question  between  preaching  extempore  and  from  a  written 
discourse,  it  does  not  properly  fall  within  the  province  of  this  trea- 
tise to  discuss  on  any  but  what  might  be  called  rhetorical  principles. 
It  may  be  worth  while,  however,  to  remark,  incidentally,  that  one 
who  possesses  the  power  of  preparing  and  arranging  his  matter,  and 
retaining  it  in  his  memohy,  and  expressing  it  fluently  in  well-chosen 
language,  extempore — in  short,  who  is  qualified  to  produce  the  best 
effects  of  this  kind  of  preaching — should  remember,  as  a  set-oft' 
n  gainst  its  advantages,  that  he  may  be  holding  out  an  example  and 
encouragement  to  others  who  are  not  thus  qualified.  He  may  per- 
haps find  himself  cited  as  approving  of  extemporary  preaching,  and 
appealed  to  as  an  authority,  and  imitated  by  those  who  perhaps  re- 
semble him  only  in  fluency,  and  who,  by  not  merely  speaking  extem- 
pore, but  also  thinking  extempore,  leave  some  of  their  readers  dis- 
gusted, and  the  rest  unedified. 


CH.  III.,  §  7.]  ELOCUTION.  331 

before   a  large  congregation,   than   in    reading   to   them   a 
written  discourse. 

§7. 

And  here  it  may  be  worth  while  briefly  to  inquire  into  the 
causes  of  that  remarkable  phenomenon,  as  it  inquiry  re- 
may  justly  be  accounted,  that  a  person  who  is  f i^^f  j:^^^  ^!^° 
able  with  facility  to  express  his  sentiments  in  felt  in  ad- 
private  to  a  friend,  in  such  language  and  in  such  Jl^^o^aiS* 
a  manner  as  would  be  perfectly  suitable  to  a  cer-  dience. 
tain  audience,  yet  finds  it  extremely  difficult  to  address  to 
that  audience  the  very  same  words,  in  the  same  manner  • 
and  is,  in  many  instances,  either  completely  struck  dumb,  or 
greatly  embarrassed,  when  he  attempts  it.  Most  persons  are 
so  familiar  with  the  fact,  as  hardly  to  have  ever  considered 
that  it  requires  explanation,  but  attentive  consideration  shows 
it  to  be  a  very  curious  as  well  as  important  one;  and  of 
which  no  explanation,  as  far  as  I  know,  has  been  attempted. 
It  cannot  be  from  any  superior  deference  which  the  speaker 
thinks  it  right  to  feel  for  the  judgment  of  the  hearers;  for 
it  will  often  happen  that  the  single  friend,  to  whom  he  is 
able  to  speak  fluently,  shall  be  one  whose  good  opinion  he 
more  values,  and  whose  wisdom  he  is  more  disposed  to  look 
up  to,  than  that  of  all  the  others  together.  The  speaker 
may  even  feel  that  he  himself  has  a  decided  and  acknow- 
ledged superiority  over  every  one  of  the  audience ;  and  that 
he  should  not  be  the  least  abashed  in  addressing  any  two  or 
three  of  them,  separately;  yet  still  all  of  them,  collectively, 
will  often  inspire  him  with  a  kind  of  dread. 

Closely  allied  in  its  causes  with  the  phenomenon  I  am  con- 
sidering, is  that  other  curious  fact,  that  the  very  same  senti- 
ments expressed  in  the  same  manner,  will  often  powerful  ex- 
have  a  far  more  powerful  efi'ect  on  a  large  audi-  citementpro- 
ence,  than  they  would  have  on  any  one  or  two  of  ili-glludf- 
these  very  persons,  separately.  That  is  in  a  great  ^"^^• 
degree  true  of  all  men  which  was  said  of  the  Athenians,  that 
they  were  like  sheep,  of  which  a  flock  is  more  easily  driven 
than  a  single  one. 

Another    remarkable    circumstance,   connected  with    the 
foregoing,  is  the  difi"crencc  in  respect  of  the  style  which  is 


332  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

DifF  ent  1  -  ^^i*'"^^^^?  respectively,  in  addressing  a  multitude, 
guage  em-  and  two  or  three  even  of  the  same  persons.  A 
corJi?noM!othe  ^^^h  holder,  as  well  as  less  accurate,  kind  of  Ian- 
number  ad-  guage  is  both  allowable  and  advisable,  in  speak- 
ing to  a  considerable  number;  as  Aristotle  has 
remarked,*  in  speaking  of  the  graphic  and  agonistic  styles — 
the  former  suited  to  the  closet,  the  latter  to  public  speaking 
before  a  large  assembly.  And  he  ingeniously  compares  them 
to  the  dififerent  styles  of  painting :  the  greater  the  crowd,  he 
says,  the  more  distant  is  the  view ;  so  that  in  scene-painting, 
for  instance,  coarser  and  bolder  touches  are  required,  and  the 
nice  finish,  which  would  delight  a  close  spectator,  would  be 
lost.  He  does  not,  however,  account  for  the  phenomena  in 
question. 

§8. 

The  solution  of  them  will  be  found  by  attention  to  a  very 
curious  and  complex  play  of  sympathies  which 
enan-ferrecf'  takes  place  in  a  large  assembly,  and  (within  cer- 
^"^  th^^^  ^■^"^"  *^^^  limits)  the  more,  in  proportion  to  its  num- 
bers. First,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  we  are  dis- 
posed to  sympathize  with  any  emotion  which  we  believe  to 
exist  in  the  mind  of  any  one  present ;  and  hence,  if  we  are 
at  the  same  time  otherwise  disposed  to  feel  that  emotion,  such 
disposition  is  in  consequence  heightened.  In  the  next  place, 
we  not  only  ourselves  feel  this  tendency,  but  we  are  sensible 
that  others  do  the  same )  and  thus,  we  sympathize  not  only 
with  the  other  emotions  of  the  rest,  but  also  with  their  sym- 
pathy towards  us.  Any  emotion  accordingly  which  we  feel, 
is  still  further  heightened  by  the  knowledge  that  there  are 
others  present  who  not  only  feel  the  same,  but  feel  it  the 
more  strongly  in  consequence  of  their  sympathy  with  our- 
selves. Lastly,  we  are  sensible  that  those  around  us  sympa- 
thize not  only  with  ourselves,  but  with  each  other  also ',  and 
as  we  enter  into  this  heightened  feeling  of  theirs  likewise, 
the  stimulus  to  our  own  minds  is  thereby  still  further  in- 
creased. 

The  case  of  the  ludicrous  affords  the  most  obvious  illus- 
tration of  these  principles,  from  the  circumstance  that  the, 

*  "Rhetoric*"  Book  III. 


CH.  III.,  §  8.]  ELOCUTION.  833 

effects  produced  are  so  open  and  palpable.  If  any  thing 
of  this  nature  occurs,  you  are  disposed,  by  the 
character  of  the  thing  itself,  to  laugh ;  but  much  JJom^the^c^se 
more,  if  any  one  else  is  known  to  be  present  of  the  ludi- 
whoni  you  think  likely  to  be  diverted  with  it; 
even  though  that  other  should  not  know  of  your  presence ; 
but  much  more  still  if  he  does  know  it,  because  you  are  then 
aware  that  sympathy  with  your  emotion  heighteus  his ;  and 
most  of  all  will  the  disposition  to  laugh  be  increased,  if  many 
are  present;  because  each  is  then  aware  that  they  all  sympa- 
thize with  each  other,  as  well  as  with  himself  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  mention  the  exact  correspondence  of  the  fact 
with  the  above  explanation.  So  important,  in  this  case,  is 
the  operation  of  the  causes  here  noticed,  that  hardly  any  one 
ever  laughs  when  he  is  quite  alone ;  or  if  he  does,  he  will 
find,  on  consideration,  that  it  is  from  a  conception  of  the  pre- 
sence of  some  companion  whom  he  thinks  likely  to  have  been 
amused,  had  he  been  present,  and  to  whom  he  thinks  of  de- 
scribing, or  repeating,  what  had  diverted  himself.  Indeed,  in 
other  cases,  as  well  as  the  one  just  instanced,  almost  every 
one  is  aware  of  the  infectious  nature  of  any  emotion  excited 
in  a  large  assembly.  It  may  be  compared  to  the  increase  of 
sound  by  a  number  of  echoes,  or  of  light  by  a  number  of 
mirrors ;  or  to  the  blaze  of  a  heap  of  firebrands,  each  of  which 
would  speedily  have  gone  out  if  kindled  separately,  but  which, 
when  thrown  together,  help  to  kindle  each  other. 

The  application  of  what  has  been  said  to  the  case  before 
us  is  sufficiently  obvious.  In  addressing  a  large  assembly, 
you  know  that  each  of  them  sympathizes  both  with  your  own 
anxiety  to  acquit  yourself  well,  and  also  with  the  same  feel- 
ing in  the  minds  of  the  rest.  You  know  also,  that  every 
slip  you  may  be  guilty  of,  that  may  tend  to  excite  ridicule, 
pity,  disgust,  etc.,  makes  the  stronger  impression  on  each  of 
the  hearers,  from  their  mutual  sympathy,  and  their  conscious- 
ness of  it.  This  augments  your  anxiety.  Next,  you  know 
that  each  hearer,  putting  himself  mentally  in  the  speaker's 
place,'^  sympathizes  with  this  augmented  anxiety ;  which  is 

*  Hence  it  is  that  shy  persons  are,  as  is  matter  of  common  remark, 
the  more  distressed  by  this  infirmity  when  in  company  with  those 
who  are  subject  to  the  same. 


83-4  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

by  this  thouglit  increased  still  further.  And  if  you  become 
at  all  embarrassed,  the  knowledge  that  there  are  so  many  to 
sympathize,  not  only  with  that  embarrassment,  but  also  with 
each  other's  feelings  on  the  perception  of  it,  heightens  your 
confusion  to  the  utmost.* 

The  same  causes  will  account  for  a  skilful  orator's  being 
able  to  rouse  so  much  more  easily,  and  more  powerfully,  the 
passions  of  a  multitude :  they  inflame  each  other  by  mutual 
sympathy,  and  mutual  consciousness  of  it.  And  hence  it  is 
that  a  bolder  kind  of  language  is  suitable  to  such  an  audi- 
ence :  a  passage  which,  in  the  closet,  might,  just  at  the  first 
glance,  tend  to  excite  awe,  compassion,  indignation,  or  any 
other  such  emotion,  but  which  would  on  a  moment's  cool  re- 
flection appear  extravagant,  may  be  very  suitable  for  the  ago- 
nistic style  ]  because,  before  that  moment's  reflection  could 
take  place  in  each  hearer's  mind,  he  would  be  aware  that 
every  one  around  him  sympathized  in  that  first  emotion, 
which  would  thus  become  so  much  heightened  as  to  preclude, 
in  a  great  degree,  the  ingress  of  any  counteracting  senti- 
ment. 

If  one  could  suppose  such  a  case  as  that  of  a  speaker  (him- 
self aware  of  the  circumstance)  addressing  a  multitude,  each 
of  whom  believed  himself  to  be  the  sole  hearer,  it  is  probable 
that  little  or  no  embarrassment  would  be  felt,  and  a  much 
more  sober,  calm,  and  finished  style  of  language  would  be 
adopted. 

And  here  it  may  be  observed,  incidentally,  that  a  person 
of  superior  ability  will  often,  through  the  operation  of  this 
reflex  sympathy,  operate  powerfully  on  his  own  mind,  in 
heightening  some  passion,  or  fortifying  some  prejudice  of  his 
own.     He  will  act  on  others,  who  in  turn  will  react  on  him. 

*  It  may  be  remarked,  by  way  of  corollary  from  what  has  been 
here  said,  how  injudicious  is  the  method  commonly  employ'ed  by 
those  who  wish  to  cure  a  young  person  of  bashfulness.  They  tell 
him  incessantly  of  the  unfavorable  impression  it  creates,  the  ridicule  to 
which  it  exposes  him,  etc.,  and  exhort  him  to  try  to  make  a  better 
appearance,  etc.,  all  of  which  is  pouring  oil  on  the  fire  which  we  are 
seeking  to  quench.  If  they  could  induce  him  (pursuing  just  the  op- 
posite course)  to  think  less  of  the  appearance  he  makes,  and  not  to 
be  occupied  with  the  idea  of  what  others  are  thinking  of  him,  they 
would  be  administering  the  specific  remedy  for  the  disease. 


CH.  III.,  §  9.]  ELOCUTION.     '  335 

I  have  already  remarked  (Part  II.,  chap,  i.,  §  2)  on  the 
danger,  to  a  person  of  great  ingenuity,  of  being  himself,  un- 
less carefully  on  his  guard,  misled  by  it ;  since  though  it  re- 
quires greater  skill  to  mislead  him  than  an  ordinary  man,  he 
himself  possesses  that  superior  skill.     It  is  no  feeble  blow- 
that  will  destroy  a  giant;  but  if  a  giant  resolve  to  kill  him- 
self, it  is  a  giant  that  deals  the  blow.     And  then,  the  man 
of  preeminent  ability  has,  in  the  supposed  case,  \ns  judgment 
blinded  by  the  very  passion  which  calls  forth  all  his  argu- 
mentative skill.     But  in  addition  to  this,  such  a  man  is  quali- 
fied strongly  to  influence  (whether  in  a  public  speech  or  in 
private  conversation)  those  whose  abilities  are  inferior  to  his 
own  ;  and  they  again,  by  adopting  and  sympathizing  with  his 
passion  or  prejudice,  heighten  it  in  himself.     He  will,  natu- 
rally, be  disposed  to -overrate  their  judgment  when  it  coin- 
cides with  his  own ;  and  thence,  to  find  himself  confirmed  in 
what  he  thinks  and  feels,  by  listening  to  what  is,  in  fact,  the 
echo  of  his  own  voice;   and  thus,  what  is  in  reality  self- 
reliance,  presents  itself  in  the  specious  garb  of  modest  defer- 
ence for  the  opinion  of  others. 

This  accordingly  is  a  danger  which  any  man  of  superior 
talents  should  sedulously  guard  against  in  his  intercourse 
with  persons — the  members^  for  instance,  of  his  own  family — 
who  are  his  inferiors  in  ability. 

§  9.  • 

The  impossibility  of  bringing  the  delivery  of  a  written 
composition    completely   to    a   level    with    real    extemporary 
speaking,  (though,  as  has  been  said,  it  may  approach  indefi- 
nitely near  to  such  an  eflfect,)  is  explained  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple.    Besides  that  the  audience  are  more  sure 
that  the  thoughts  they  hear  expressed  are  the    wlthffL- 
genuine  emanation  of  the  speaker's  mind  at  the    te'^porane- 
moment,*  their  attention  and  interest  are  the    h"'sunnomft- 
more  excited  by  their  sympathy  with  one  whom    Sy!"  '^'^' 

'^-  It  is  not  meant  by  this  that  an  extemporary  speaker  necessarily 
composes  (in  respect  of  his  matter)  extempore,  or  that  he  professes  to 
do  so ;  but  only  that  if  he  frames  each  sentence  at  the  moment,  he 
must,  at  that  moment,  have  the  sentiment  which  is  expressed  in  it 
strongly  present  to  his  mind. 


336  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

they  perceive  to  be  carried  forward  solely  by  bis  own  unaided 
and  unremitted  efforts,  without  having  any  book  to  refer  to; 
they  view  him  as  a  swimmer  supported  by  his  own  constant 
exertions ;  and  in  every  such  case,  if  the  feat  be  well  accom- 
plished, the  surmounting  of  the  dijficulty  affords  great  grati- 
fication; especially  to  those  who  are  conscious  that  they 
could  not  do  the  same.  And  one  proof  that  part  of  the  plea- 
sure conveyed  does  arise  from  this  source  is,  that  as  the  spec- 
tators of  an  exhibition  of  supposed  unusual  skill  in  swim- 
ming would  instantly  withdraw  most  of  their  interest  and 
admiration  if  they  perceived  that  the  performer  was  sup- 
ported by  corks  or  the  like,  so  would  the  feelings  alter  of  the 
hearers  of  a  supposed  extemporaneous  discourse,  as  soon  as 
they  should  perceive,  or  even  suspect,  that  the  orator  had  it 
written  down  before  him. 

§  10. 

The  way  in  which  the  respective  inconveniences  of  both 
kinds  of  discourses  may  best  be  avoided,  is  evi- 
OToposed  ^^^^  -^■''^^^  what  has  been  already  said.  Let  both 
the  extemporary  speaker,  and  the  reader  of  his 
own  compositions,  study  to  avoid,  as  far  as  possible,  all 
thoughts  of  self  J  earnestly  fixing  the  mind  on  the  matter  of 
what  is  delivered ;  and  the  one  will  feel  the  less  of  that 
embarrassment  which  arises  from  the  thought  of  what 
opinion  the  hearers  will  form  of  him;  while  the  other  will 
appear  to  be  speaking,  because  he  actually  will  he  speaking, 
the  sentiments,  not  indeed  which  at  that  time  first  arise  in 
his  own  mind,  but  which  are  then  really  present  to  and 
occupy  his  mind. 


CH.  IV.,  §  1.]  ELOCUTION.  337 

CHAPTER  IV.         . 

PRACTICAL   DEDUCTIONS   FROM   THE   FOREGOING   VIEWS. 


§1- 

One  of  tlie  consequences  of  the  adoption  of  the  mode  of 
elocution  here  recommended  is,  that  he  who  en- 
deavors to  employ  it  will  find  a  growing  reluc-  cJJ^jJJJ^^itions 
tance  to  the  delivery,  as  his  own,  of  any  but  his  suitable  to 
own  compositions.  Conclusions,  indeed,  and  ar-  deUvery.^'^ 
guments  he  may  freely  borrow ;  but  he  will  be 
led  to  compose  his  own  discourses,  from  finding  that  he  can- 
not deliver  those  of  another  to  his  own  satisfaction,  without 
laboriously  studying  them,  as  an  actor  does  his  part,  so  as  to 
maJce  them,  in  some  measure,  his  own.  And  with  this  view, 
he  will  generally  find  it  advisable  to  introduce  many  altera- 
tions in  the  expression,  not  with  any  thought  of  improving 
the  style,  absolutely,  but  only  with  a  view  to  his  own  delivery. 
And,  indeed,  even  his  own  previous  compositions  he  will  be 
led  to  alter  almost  as  much,  in  point  of  expression,  in  order 
to  accommodate  them  to  the  natural  manner  of  delivery. 
Much  that  would  please  in  the  closet,  much  of  tMe  graphic 
style  described  by  Aristotle,  will  be  laid  aside  for  the  agon- 
istic— for  a  style  somewhat  more*  blunt  and  homely — more 
simple,  and,  apparently,  unstudied  in  its  structure,  and  at 
the  same  time  more  daringly  energetic.  And  if,  again,  he  is 
desirous  of  fitting  his  discourses  for  the  press,  he  will  find  it 
expedient  to  reverse  this  process,  and  alter  the  style  afresh. 
In  many  instances,  accordingly,  the  perusal  of  a  manuscript 
sermon  would  aff"ord,  from  the  observation  of  its  style,  a 
tolerably  good  ground  of  conjecture  as  to  the  author's  cus- 
tomary elocution.  For  instance,  a  rapid  elocution  suits  the 
more  full,  and  a  slow  one  the  more  concise  style ;  and  great 
variations  in  the  degree  of  rapidity  of  delivery  are  suited  to 
the  corresponding  variations  in  the  style. 

A  mere  sermon-reader,  on  the  contrary,  will  avoid  this 
inconvenience  and  this  labor ;  he  will  be  able  to  deliver  an- 
other's discourses  nearly  as  well  as  his  own ;  and  may  send 


338  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

his  own  to  the  press  without  the  necessity  of  any  great  pre- 
paration ;  but  he  will  purchase  these  advantages  at  the 
expense  of  more  than  half  the  force  which  might  have  been 
given  to  the  sentiments  uttered.  And  he  will  have  no  right 
to  complain  that  his  discourses,  though  replete  perhaps  with 
good  sense,  learning,  and  eloquence,  are  received  with  lan- 
guid apathy,  or  that  many  are  seduced  from  their  attendance 
on  this  teaching,  by  the  empty  rant  of  an  illiterate  fanatic. 
Much  of  these  evils  must  indeed  be  expected,  after  all,  to 
remain ;  but  he  does  not  give  himself  a  fair  chance  for 
diminishing  them,  unless  he  does  justice  to  his  own  argu- 
ments, instructions,  and  exhortations,  hj  speaking  them,  in 
the  only  efifectual  way,  to  the  hearts  of  his  hearers ;  that  is, 
as  uttered  naturally //-om  his  own. 

I  have  seen  somewhere  an  anecdote  of  some  celebrated 
actor  being  asked  by  a  divine,  "  How  is  it  that  people  listen 
with  so  much  emotion  to  what  you  say,  which  they  know  to 
be  all  fictitious,  besides  that  it  would  be  no  concern  of  theirs, 
even  if  true;  while  they  hear  with  comparative  apathy,  from 
us,  truths  the  most  sublime,  and  the  most  important  to 
them  V  The  answer  was,  "  Because  we  deliver  fiction  like 
truth,  and  you  deliver  truth  like  fiction." 

The  principles  here  laid  down  may  help  to  explain  a 
Effects  of  remarkable  fact  which  is  usually  attributed  to 
rant  ac-  *  other  than  the  true  causes.  The  powerful  efi'ects 
often  produced  by  some  fanatical  preachers,  not 
superior  in  pious  and  sincere  zeal,  and  inferior  in  learning, 
in  good  sense,  and  in  taste,  to  men  who  are  listened  to  with 
comparative  apathy,  are  frequently  considered  as  a  proof  of 
superior  eloquence ;  though,  an  eloquence  tarnished  by  bar- 
barism and  extravagant  mannerism.  Now  may  not  such 
effects  result,  not  from  any  superior  powers  in  the  preacher, 
but  merely  from  the  intrinsic  beauty  and  sublimity  and  the 
measureless  importance  of  the  subject?  But  why,  then,  it 
may  be  replied,  does  not  the  other  preacher,  whose  subject  is 
the  very  same,  produce  the  same  eifect?  The  answer  is, 
because  he  is  but  half-attended  to.  The  ordinary  measured 
cadence  of  reading  is  not  only  in  itself  dull,  but  is  what  men 
Sire  familiarJi/  accustomed  to  :  religion  itself  also  is  a  subject 
BO  familiar,  in  a  certain  sense,  (familiar,  that  is,  to  the  ear,) 
as  to  be  tritCf  even  to  those  who  knoiu  and  think  little  about 


CH.  IV.,  §  2.]  ELOCUTION.  339 

it.  Let  but  the  attention  be  thoroughly  roused,  and  intently 
fixed  on  such  a  stupendous  subject,  and  that  subject  itself  will 
produce  the  most  overpowering  emotion.  And  not  only  un- 
affected earnestness  of  manner,  but,  perhaps,  even  still  more, 
any  uncouth  oddity,  and  even  ridiculous  extravagance,  will, 
by  the  stimulus  of  novelty,  have  the  effect  of  thus  rousing  the 
hearers  from  their  ordinary  lethargy.  So  that  a  preacher  of 
little  or  no  real  eloquence  will  sometimes,  on  sueh  a  subject^ 
produce  the  effects  of  the  greatest  eloquence,  by  merely  forc- 
ing the  hearers  (often  even  by  the  excessively  glaring  faults 
of  his  style  and  delivery)  to  attend  to  a  subject  which  no 
one  can  really  attend  to  unmoved. 

It  will  not  of  course  be  supposed  that  my  intention  is  to 
recommend  the  adoption  of  extravagant  rant.  The  good 
effects  which  it  undoubtedly  does  sometimes  produce,  inci- 
dentally, on  some,  are  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  mis- 
chievous consequences  to  others. 

§2. 

One  important  practical  maxim  resulting  from  the  views 
here  taken,  is  the  decided  condemnation  of  all 
recitation  of  speeches  by  schoolboys ;  a  practice  recitation  at 
so  much  approved  and  recommended  by  many,  schools  in- 
with  a  view  to  preparing  youths,  for  public  speak- 
ing in  after-life.  It  is  to  be  condemned,  however,  (supposing 
the  foregoing  principle  correct,)  not  as  useless  merely,  but 
al)solutely  pernicious,  with  a  view  to  that  object.  The  just- 
ness, indeed,  of  this  opinion  will,  doubtless,  be  disputed  ;  but 
its  consistency  with  the  plan  I  have  been  recommending  is 
almost  too  obvious  to  be  insisted  on.  In  any  one  who  should 
think  a  natural  delivery  desirable,  it  would  be  an  obvious 
absurdity  to  think  of  attaining  it  by  practicing  that  which  is 
the  most  completely  artificial.  If  there  is,  as  is  evident, 
much  difiiculty  to  be  surmounted,  even  by  one  who  is  deliver- 
ing, on  a  serious  occasion,  his  own  composition,  before  he  can 
completely  succeed  in  abstracting  his  mind  from  all  thoughts 
of  his  own  voice,  of  the  judgment  of  the  audience  on  his  per- 
formance, etc.,  and  in  fixing  it  on  the  matter,  occasion,  and 
place — on  every  circumstance  which  ought  to  give  the  char- 
acter to  his  elocution  —  how  much  must  this  dijficulty  be 


340  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

enhanced,  when  neither  the  sentiments  he  is  to  utter,  nor  the 
character  he  is  to  assume,  are  his  own,  or  even  supposed  to  be 
so,  or  anywise  connected  with  him ;  when  neither  the  place, 
the  occasion,  nor  the  audience,  which  are  actually  present, 
have  any  thing  to  do  with  the  substance  of  what  is  said  !  It 
is  therefore  ahnost  inevitable  that  he  will  studiously  form  to 
himself  an  artijicial  manner  ;*  which  (especially  if  he  suc- 
ceed in  it)  will  probably  cling  to  him  through  life,  even 
when  he  is  delivering  his  own  compositions  on  real  occasions. 
The  very  best  that  can  be  expected  is,  that  he  should  become 
an  accomplished  actor — possessing  the  jjlastlc  power  of  put- 
ting himself,  in  imagination,  so  completely  into  the  situation 
of  him  whom  he  personates,  and  of  adopting  for  the  moment, 
so  perfectly,  all  the  sentiments  and  views  of  that  character, 
as  to  express  himself  exactly  as  such  a  person  would  have 
done,  in  the  supposed  situation.  Few  are  likely  to  attain 
such  perfection ;  but  he  who  shall  have  succeeded  in  accom- 
plishing this,  will  have  taken  a  most  circuitous  route  to  his 
proposed  object,  if  that  object  be,  not  to  qualify  himself  for 
the  stage,  but  to  be  able  impressively  to  deliver  in  public,  on 
real  and  important  occasions,  his  own  sentiments.  He  will 
have  been  carefully  learning  to  assume  what,  when  the  real 
occasion  occurs,  need  not  be  assumed,  but  only  expressed. 
Nothing  surely  can  be  more  preposterous  than  laboring  to 
acquire  the  art  of  pretending  to  be  what  he  is  not,  and  to 
feel  what  he  does  not,  in  order  that  he  may  be  enabled,  on  a 
real  emergency,  to  pretend  to  be  and  to  feel  just  what  the 
occasion  requires  and  suggests  :  in  short,  to  personate  himself. 
The  Barmecide,  in  the  Arahian  Nights,  who  amused  him- 
self by  setting  down  his  guest  to  an  imaginary  feast,  and  try- 
ing his  skill  in  imitating,  at  an  empty  table,  the  actions  of 
eating  and  drinking,  did  not  propose  this  as  an  advisable 
mode  of  instructing  him  how  to  perform  those  actions  in 
reality. 

*  Some  have  used  the  expression  of  "a  conscious  manner"  to  de- 
note that  which  results  (either  in  conversation — in  the  ordinary 
actions  of  life — or  in  public  speaking)  from  the  anxious  attention 
which  some  persons  feel  to  the  opinion  the  company  may  form  of 
them;  a  consciousness  of  being  watched  and  scrutinized  in  every  word 
and  gesture,  together  with  an  extreme  anxiety  for  approbation,  and 
dread  of  censure. 


CH.  IV.,  §  2.]  ELOCUTION.  341 

Let  all  studied  recitation,  therefore — every  kind  of  speak- 
ing which  from  its  nature  must  necessarily  be  artificial — be 
carefully  avoided,  by  one  whose  object  is  to  attain  the  only 
truly  impressive,  the  natural  delivery. 

It  should  be  observed,  that  the  censure  here  pronounced 
on  school-recitations,  and  all  exercises  of  the  like  .  ,.  ^  „ 
nature,  relates,  exclusively,  to  the  effect  produced  piays1>y 
on  the  style  of  elocution.  With  any  other  objects  schoolboys. 
that  may  be  proposed,  the  present  work  has,  obviously,  no 
concern.  Nor  can  it  be  doubted  that  a  familiarity  with  the 
purest  forms  of  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages  may  bo 
greatly  promoted  by  committing  to  memory,  and  studying, 
not  only  to  understand,  but  to  recite  with  propriety,  the  best 
orations  and  plays  in  those  languages.  The  familiar  know- 
ledge, too,  and  temporary  adoption  of  the  characters  and 
sentiments,  can  hardly  fail  to  produce  a  powerful  effect  on  the 
moral  character.  If  the  spectators  of  a  play  which  strongly 
interests  them  are  in  any  degree  disposed  (as  the  poet  ex- 
presses it)  to  "live  o'er  each  scene,  and  be  what  they  be- 
hold," much  more  may  this  be  expected  in  the  cictovy  who 
studies  to  give  the  fullest  effect  to  his  performance,  by  fancy- 
ing himself,  as  far  as  possible,  the  person  he  represents.''^ 

*  If  there  are  any,  as  I  must  hope  there  are  not  a  few,  who  would 
deprecate  such  a  result  fi^om  the  acting  of  Terence's  plays  by  school- 
boys, and  who  yet  patronize  the  practice,  I  cannot  but  express  my 
unfeigned  wonder  at  their  doing  so.  Can  they  doubt  that  some  effect 
is  likel}'  to  be  produced  upon  a  young  and  uninformed  mind,  for- 
warder in  passions  than  in  reasoning,  by — not  reading  merely,  not 
learning  by  heart  merely — but  studying  as  an  actor,  and  striving  to 
deliver  with  effect,  the  part  of  an  accomplfshed  debauchee  ?  And  this, 
too,  such  a  character  as  Terence's  poetical  justice  never  fails  to  crown 
with  success  and  applause.  The  foulest  obscenity,  such  as  would 
create  disgust  in  any  delicate  mind,  would  probably  be  less  likely  to 
corrupt  the  principles,  than  the  more  gentleman-like  profligacy, 
which  is  not  merely  represented,  but  recommended  in  Terence ;  and 
which  approaches  but  too  nearly  to  what  the  youth  may  find  exem- 
plified in  some  persons  among  the  higher  classes  in  this  country. 

Will  it  be  answered  that  because  the  same  boys  are  taught  to  say 
their  catechism — are  sent  to  chapel — and  are  given  to  understand 
that  they  are  not  to  take  Pamphilus  as  a  model,  a  suificient  safeguard 
is  thus  provided  against  the  effects  of  an  assiduous  effort  to  gain  ap- 
plause by  a  lively  and  spirited  representation  of  such  a  character? 
I  can  only  reply,  in  the  words  of  Thucydides,  "We  give  you  the  joy 


842  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

But  let  no  one  seek  to  attain  a  natural,  simple,  and  forcible 
elocution  by  a  practice  which,  the  more  he  applies  to  it,  will 
carry  him  still  the  farther  from  the  object  he  aims  at. 

What  has  been  said  may  perhaps  be  considered  by  some  as 
applicable  only  in  the  case  where  the  design  is  merely  to 
qualify  a  man  for  extemporaneous  siyeaJcing — not  for  deliver- 
ing a  written  discourse  with  the  effect  of  one  that  is  actually 
extemporaneous.  For  it  may  be  urged  that  he  who  attempts 
this,  must  be,  to  a  certain  extent,  an  actor :  he  may  indeed 
really  think,  and  strongly  feel  at  the  moment,  all  that  he  is 
saying  ]  but  though,  thus  far,  no  disguise  is  needed,  he  can- 
not, without  a  distinct  effort,  deliver  what  he  is,  in  fact,  read- 
ing, with  the  air  of  one  who  is  not  reading,  but  is  framing 
each  sentence  as  he  delivers  it  3  and  to  learn  to  do  this,  it 
may  be  said,  practice  is  requisite  j  not  such  practice  indeed 
as  that  of  ordinary  school-recitations,  which  has  a  directly 
contrary  tendency,  but  such  as  might  be  adopted  on  the  prin- 
ciples above  laid  down.  And  it  must  be  admitted,  (indeed, 
the  remark  has  been  frequently  made  in  the  foregoing  pages,) 
that  the  task  of  him  who  delivers  a  written  discourse  is  very 
different  from  that  of  the  truly  extemporary  speaker,  suppos- 
ing the  object  be  to  produce  at  all  a  similar  effect.  For,  as  I 
have  formerly  observed,  what  has  been  here  called  the  natu- 
ral delivery,  is  that  which  is  natural  to  the  real  speaker 
alone )  and  is  by  no  means  what  will  spontaneously  suggest 
itself  to  one  who  has  (even  his  own)  written  words  before 


of  your  innocence,  but  covet  not  your  silliness;"  MAKAPISANTE2 
*TMi2N  TO  AHEIPOKAKON,  OT  ZHAOTMEN  TO  A^PON. 

I  am  aware  that  I  run  a  risk  of  giving  otfence  by  these  remarks ; 
but  a  sense  of  duty  forbids  their  suppression.  If  the  practice  is 
capable  of  vindication,  let  it  receive  one ;  if  not,  let  it  be  abolished. 

It  is  now  (1840)  a  good  many  years  since  this  remonstrance  was 
first  published ;  during  which  interval  the  work  has  gone  through 
several  editions.  I  cannot  but  suppose,  therefore,  that  some  refuta- 
tion of  my  reasoning  would,  before  now,  have  been  at  least  attempted, 
(which,  as  far  as  I  know,  no  one  ever  did  attempt,)  were  it  not  felt 
and  practically  acknowledged  by  the  parties  concerned  to  be  un- 
answerable. 

Let  the  experiment  be  tried,  of  placing  in  the  hands  of  the  mothers 
of  the  boys,  when  they  come  to  witness  the  exhibition,  a  close  trans- 
lation of  the  play  their  sons  are  acting.  I  will  be  satisfied  to  abide 
by  the  decision  of  the  right-minded  and  judicious  among  them. 


en.  IV.,  §  2.]  ELOCUTION.  343 

him.  To  attain  the  delivery  I  have  been  recommending,  he 
must  make  a  strong  and  continual  effort  so  to  withdraw  his 
mind,  not  only  from  studied  modulation  of  voice,  but  from 
the  consciousness  that  he  is  reading,  and  so  to  absorb  him- 
self, as  it  were,  not  only  in  the  general  sentiments,  but  in 
each  separate  expression,  as  to  make  it  thoroughly  his  own  at 
the  moment  of  utterance.  And  I  am  far  from  supposing  that 
in  doing  this  he  will  not  improve  by  practice ;  indeed,  I  have 
all  along  implied  that  no  one  can  expect  at  once  to  attain 
perfection  in  it.  But  whether  any  such  system  of  recitation 
as  would  afford  beneficial  practice  could  be  adopted  at  schools, 
I  am  more  doubtful.  Supposing  the  established  mode  of 
spouting  to  be  totally  exploded,  and  every  effort  used  to  make 
a  boy  deliver  a  speech  of  Ca)sar,  for  instance,  or  Lear,  in  the 
natural  manner,  i.  e.,  according  to  the  master's  view  of  what 
is  natural,  still,  the  learner  himself  will  be  reciting  in  a  man- 
ner, to  him,  wholly  artificial ;  not  merely  because  he  is  read- 
ing, or  repeating  from  memory,  what  he  is  endeavoring  to 
utter  as  if  extempore ;  nor,  again,  merely  because  the  com- 
position is  another's,  and  the  circumstances  fictitious;  but 
because  the  composition,  the  situation,  and  the  circumstances 
could  not  have  been  his  own.  A  schoolboy  has  no  natural 
way  of  his  own  to  express  himself  on  the  topics  on  which  he 
is  made  to  declaim,  because  as  yet  these  topics  form  no  part 
of  the  furniture  of  his  mind.  And  thus  the  object  proposed, 
viz.,  to  qualify  him  for  delivering  well,  on  real  occasions,  his 
own,  or  such  as  his  oivn,  written  compositions,  will  have  been 
defeated ;  and  we  shall  have  anticipated,  and  corrupted,  by  a 
studied  elocution,  what  would  have  been,  in  after-life,  his  own 
natural  mode  of  expressing  himself  on  such  occasions. 

However  serviceable  practice  may  be,  there  is  none,  I 
think,  that  will  not  do  more  harm  than  good,  except  the 
practice  of  reciting,  either  on  real  occasions,  or  on  such  as 
one  can  fully  conceive  and  enter  into,  expressions  either 
actually  his  own,  or  at  least  such  as  he  would  naturally  have 
uttered  on  the  occasion.  Should  the  schoolboy  be  limited  to 
the  recitation  of  compositions  of  his  own,  or  of  a  fellow- 
student,  and  that,  too,  compositions  not  written  as  a  task,  on 
a  given  subject,  (on  such  subjects,  at  least,  as  are  usually  set 
for  exercises,*)  but  on  some  real  occasion  interesting  to  a 

*  See  Introd.,  §  5. 


344  ELEMENTS   OP   RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

youthful  mind,  (e.  g.,  of  some  recent  occurrence,  or  the  like,) 
a  system  of  practice  might  perhaps  be  adopted  which  would 
prove  beneficial. 

Such  exercises  as  these,  however,  would  make  but  a  sorry 
displai/,  in  comparison  of  the  customary  declamations.  The 
^'  pomp  and  circumstance"  of  annual  public  recitations  has 
much  that  is  attractive  to  masters,  parents,  and  scholars ; 
and  it  is  easily  believed,  by  those  who  wish  to  believe  it,  that 
for  a  boy  who  is  destined  hereafter  to  speak  in  public,  the 
practice  of  making  public  speeches,  and  of  taking  great 
pains  to  deliver  them  well,  must  be  a  very  beneficial  exercise. 

§3. 

The  last  circumstance  to  be  noticed  among  the  results  of 
J.  the  mode  of  delivery  recommended  is,  that  the 

delivery  more  Speaker  will  find  it  much  easier  in  this  natural 
easily  heard,  j^janner  to  ma7c6  Imnself  heard:  he  will  be 
heard,  that  is,  much  more  distinctly,  at  a  greater  distance, 
and  with  far  less  exertion  and  fatigue  to  himself.  This  is 
the  more  necessary  to  be  mentioned,  because  it  is  a  common, 
if  not  prevailing  opinion,  that  the  reverse  of  this  is  the  fact. 
There  are  not  a  few  who  assign  as  a  reason  for  their  adoption 
of  a  certain  unnatural  tone  and  measured  cadence,  that  it  is 
necessary,  in  order  to  be  heard  by  a  large  congregation.  But 
though  such  an  artificial  voice  and  utterance  will  often 
appear  to  produce  a  louder  sound,  (which  is  the  circumstance 
that  probably  deceives  such  persons,)  yet  a  natural  voice  and 
delivery,  provided  it  be  clear,  though  it  be  less  labored,  and 
may  even  seem  low  to  those  who  are  near  at  hand,  will  be 
distinctly  heard  at  a  much  greater  distance.  The  only  deci- 
sive proof  of  this  must  be  sought  in  experience ;  which  will 
not  fail  to  convince  of  the  truth  of  it  any  one  who  will  fairly 
make  the  trial. 

The  requisite  degree  of  loudness  will  be  best  obtained, 
conformably  with  the  principles  here  inculcated,  not  by 
thinking  about  the  voice,  but  by  looJdng  at  the  most  distant 
of  the  hearers,  and  addressing  one's  self  especially  to  him. 
The  voice  risfes  ■spontaneously  when  we  are  speaking  to  a 
person  who  is  not  very  near. 

It  should  be  added,  that  a  speaker's  being  well  heard  does 
not  depend  near  so  much  on  the  loudness  of  the  sounds,  as 


CH.  IV.,  §  4.]  ELOCUTION.  345 

on  their  distinctness ;  and  especially  on  the  clear  pronuncia- 
tiorf  of  the  consonants. 

That  the  organs  of  voice  are  much  less  strained  and 
fatigued  by  the  natural  action  which  takes  place  in  real 
speaking  than  by  any  other,  (besides  that  it  is  what  might 
be  expected  d  priori,^  is  evident  from  daily  experience. 
An  extemporary  speaker  will  usually  be  much  less  exhausted 
in  two  hours,  than  an  elaborate  reciter  (though  less  distinctly 
heard)  will  be  in  one.  Even  the  ordinary  tone  of  reading 
aloud  is  so  much  more  fatiguing  than  that  of  conversation, 
that  feeble  patients  are  frequently  unable  to  continue  it  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  without  great  exhaustion ;  even  though 
they  may  feel  no  inconvenience  from  talking^  with  few  or  no 
pauses,  and  in  no  lower  voice,  for  more  than  double  that 
time.* 

§4. 

He  then  who  shall  determine  to  aim  at  the  natural  manner, 
though  he  will  have  to  contend  with  considerable      Reccipituia- 
difliculties  and  discourac;ements,  will  not  be  with-      tjou  of 
out  corresponding  advantages  in  the  course  he  is      and  dis-" 

pursuing.  advantages. 

He  will  be  at  first,  indeed,  repressed  to  a  greater  degree 
than  another,  by  emotions  of  bashfulness ;  but  it  will  be  more 
speedily  and  more  completely  subdued;  the  very  system  pur- 
sued, since  it  forbids  all  thoughts  of  self^  striking  at  the  root 
of  the  evil. 

He  will,  indeed,  on  the  outset,  incur  censure,  not  only 
critical,  but  moral :  he  will  be  blamed  for  using  a  colloquial 
delivery;  and  the  censure  will  very  likely  be,  as  far  as 
relates  to  his  earliest  efi'orts,  not  wholly  undeserved ;  for  his 


*  <<We  can  at  will  enlarge  or  diminish  the  area  of  the  chest,  and 
stop,  accelerate,  or  retard  the  act  of  respirati^on.  When  we  attend 
to  our  breathing,  and  regulate  its  rate,  it  quickly  becomes  fatiguing ; 
but  the  same  happens  with  any  voluntary  and  habitual  action,  if  we 
attempt  to  perform  it  analytically,  by  directing  the  attention  to  every 
step  in  its  progress." — Mayo's  Physiology,  p.  107. 

It  may  be  added  that  there  is  a  disease  of  the  larynx  to  which 
those  professionally  engaged  in  reading  aloud  are  often  subject,  but 
which,  as  I  have  learned  from  medical  men,  is  seldom  or  never  found 
among  pleaders  and  other  extemporary  speakers. 


346  ELEMENTS   OP  RHETORIC.  [PART   IV. 

manner  will  probably  at  first  too  much  resemble  that  of  con- 
versation, though  of  serious  and  earnest  conversation )  but 
by  perseverance  he  may  be  sure  of  avoiding  deserved,  and 
of  mitigating,  and  ultimately  overcoming,  undeserved,  cen- 
sure. 

He  will,  indeed,  never  be  praised  for  a  'Wery  fine  de- 
livery ;''  but  his  matter  will  not  lose  the  approbation  it  may 
deserve,  as  he  will  be  the  more  sure  of  being  heard  and 
attended  to.  He  will  not,  indeed,  meet  with  many  who  can 
be  regarded  as  models  of  the  natural  manner ;  and  those  he 
does  meet  with,  he  will  be  precluded,  by  the  nature  of  the 
system,  from  minutely  imitating ;  but  he  will  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  carrying  with  him  an  infallible  guide^  as  long  as 
he  is  careful  to  follow  the  suggestions  of  Nature ;  abstaining 
from  all  thoughts  respecting  his  own  utterance,  and  fixing 
his  mind  intently  on  the  business  he  is  engaged  in. 

And  though  he  must  not  expect  to  attain  perfection  at 
once,  he  may  be  assured  that,  while  he  steadily  adheres  to 
this  plan,  he  is  in  the  right  road  to  it :  instead  of  becoming, 
as  on  the  other  plan,  more  and  more  artificial,  the  longer  he 
studies.  And  every  advance  he  makes  will  produce  a  pro- 
portional efi'ect :  it  will  give  him  more  and  more  of  that  hold 
on  the  attention,  the  understanding,  and  the  feelings  of  the 
audience,  which  no  studied  modulation  can  ever  attain. 
Others  indeed  may  be  more  successful  in  escaping  censure, 
and  insuring  admiration ;  but  he  will  far  more  surpass  them, 
in  respect  of  the  proper  object  of  the  orator,  which  is,  to 
carry  his  jooivit. 

§5. 

Much  need  not  be  said  on  the  subject  of  action j  which  is 
.  ,.  at  present  so  little  approved,  or,  designedly,  em- 

ployed, in  this  country,  that  it  is  hardly  to  be 
reckoned  as  any  part  of  the  orator's  art. 

Action,  however,-  seems  to  be  natural  to  man,  when  speak- 
ing earnestly ;  but  the  state  of  the  case  at  present  seems  to 
be,  that  the  disgust  excited,  on  the  one  hand,  by  awkward 
and  ungraceful  motions,  and,  on  the  other,  by  studied  ges- 
ticulations, has  led  to  the  general  disuse  of  action  alto- 
gether ;  and  has  induced  men  to  form  the  habit  (for  it  cer- 
tainly is  a  formed  habit)  of  keeping  themselves  quite  still,  or 


CII.  IV.,  §  5.]  ELOCUTION.  •  347 

nearly  so,  when  speaking.  This  is  supposed  to  be,  and  per- 
haps is,  the  more  rational  and  dignified  way  of  speaking; 
but  so  strong  is  the  tendency  to  indicate  vehement  internal 
emotion  by  some  kind  of  outward  gesture,  that  those  who  do 
not  encourage  or  allow  themselves  in  any.  frequently  fall  un- 
consciously into  some  awkward  trick  of  swinging  the  body,* 
folding  a  paper,  twisting  a  string,  or  the  like.  But  when 
any  one  is  reading,  or  even  speaking,  in  the  arti- 
ficial manner,  there  is  little  or  nothing  of  this  generally  dis- 
tendency ;  precisely  because  the  mind  is  not  ^^^^" 
occupied  by  that  strong  internal  emotion  which  occasions  it. 
And  the  prevalence  of  this  (the  artificial)  manner  may  rea- 
sonably be  conjectured  to  have  led  to  the  disuse  of  all  ges- 
ticulation, even  in  extemporary  speakers;  because  if  any 
one  whose  delivery  is  artificial  does  use  action,  it  will  of 
course  be,  like  his  voice,  studied  and  artificial,  and  savoring 
still  more  of  disgusting  affectation ;  from  the  circumstance 
that  it  evidently  might  be  entirely  omitted. f  And  hence 
the  practice  came  to  be  generally  disapproved  and  exploded. 
It  need  only  be  observed,  that,  in  conformity  with  the 
principles  maintained  throughout  this  Book,  no  care  should, 
in  any  case,  be  taken  to  use  graceful  or  appropriate  action ; 
which,  if  not  perfectly  unstudied,  will  always  be  (as  has  been 
just  remarked)  intolerable.  But  if  any  one  spontaneously 
falls  into  any  gestures  that  are  unbecoming,  care  should  then 
be  taken  to  break  the  habit;  and  that,  not  only  in  public 
speaking,  but  on  all  occasions.  The  case,  indeed,  is  the  same 
with  utterance :  if  any  one  has,  in  common  discourse,  an 
indistinct,  hesitating,  provincial,  or  otherwise  faulty  delivery, 
his  natural  manner  certainly  is  not  what  he  should  adopt  in 
public  speaking ;  but  he  should  endeavor,  by  care,  to  remedy 
the  defect,  not  in  public  speaking  only,  but  in  ordinary  con- 


*  Of  one  of  the  ancient  Roman  orators  it  was  satiricallyremarked, 
(on  account  of  his  having  this  habit,)  that  he  must  have  learned  to 
speak  in  a  boat.  Of  some  other  orators,  whose  favorite  action  is 
rising  on  tiptoe,  it  would  perhaps  have  been  said  that  they  had  bcea 
accustomed  to  address  their  audience  over  a  high  wall. 

f  *' Oratas  inter  mensas  symphonia  discors, 

Et  crassum  unguentcm,  et  Sardo  cum  melle  papaver 
Ojfendunt  poterat  duel  quia  coena  sine  istis." 

HoRAOE,  Ars  Poet 


348  ELEMENTS   OF   RHETORIC.  [PART  IV- 

versation  also.  And  so  also  with  respect  to  attitudes  and 
gestures.  It  is  in  those  points,  principally,  if  not  exclu- 
sively, that  the  remarks  of  an  intelligent  friend  will  be 
beneficial. 

If,  again,  any  one  finds  himself  naturally  and  spontaneously 
led  to  use,  in  speaking,  a  moderate  degree  of  action,  which 
he  finds  from  the  observation  of  others  not  to  be  ungraceful 
or  inappropriate,  there  is  no  reason  that  he  should  study  to 
repress  thi^  tendency. 

§6. 

It  would  be  inconsistent  with  the  principle  just  laid  down, 
.  , .  ,  to  deliver  any  precepts  for  gesture ;  because  the 
rally  precedes  observance  of  even  the  best  conceivable  precepts 
the  words.  ■would,  by  destroying  the  natural  appearance,  be 
:^tal  to  their  object;  but  there  is  a  remark  which  is  worthy 
of  attention,  from  the  illustration  it  alFords  of  the  erroneous- 
ness,  in  detail,  as  well  as  in  principle,  of  the  ordinary  systems 
of  instruction  in  this  point.  Boys  are  generally  taught  to 
employ  the  prescribed  action  either  after  or  diiring  the  utter- 
ance of  the  words  it  is  to  enforce.  The  best  and  most  appro- 
priate action  must,  from  this  circumstance  alone,  necessarily 
appear  a  feeble  affectation.  It  suggests  the  idea  of  a  person 
speaking  to  those  who  do  not  fully  understand  the  language, 
and  striving  by  signs  to  explain  the  meaning  of  what  he  has 
been  saying.  The  very  same  gesture,  had  it  come  at  the 
proper,  that  is,  the  natural  point  of  time,  might,  perhaps, 
have  added  greatly  to  the  effect;  viz.,  had  it  preceded  some- 
what the  utterance  of  the  words.  That  is  always  the  natural 
order  of  action.  An  emotion,*  struggling  for  utterance,  pro- 
duces a  tendency  to  a  bodily  gesture,  to  express  that  emotion 
more  qidcldy  than  words  can  be  framed ;  the  words  follow  as 
soon  as  they  can  be  spoken.  And  this  being  always  the  case 
with  a  real,  earnest,  unstudied  speaker,  this  mode  of  placing 
the  action  foremost  gives  (if  it  be  otherwise  appropriate)  the 


*  ^^ Format  enim  Natura prius  nos  intus  ad  omnem 
Fortunarum  hahitum ;  juvat,  aut  impellit  ad  iram : 
Aut  ad  humum  mferore  gravi  deducit,  et  angit : 
Post  effert  animi  motus  interprete  lingua." 

HoEACE,  Ars  Poet. 


CH.  IV.,  §  6.]  ELOCUTION.  349 

appearance  of  earnest  emotion  actually  present  in  the  mind. 
And  the  reverse  of  this  natural  order  would  alone  be  suffi- 
cient to  convert  the  action  of  Demosthenes  himself  into  un- 
successful and  ridiculous  pantomime. 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


[A.]  Pages  21,  147. 

Omnino  hoc  volumus,  locos  omnes,  quorum  frcquons  est 
usus  (sive  ad  probationcs  ct  refutationcs,  sivc  ad  suasioncs  et 
dissuasiones,  sive  ad  laudes  et  vituperia  spectent)  mcditatos 
jam  haberi,  eosque  ultimis  ingenii  viribus,  et  tanquam  im- 
probcj  et  prorsus  praeter  veritatem,  attolli  et  deprimi.  Modum 
autem  liujus  collectionis,  tarn  ad  usum,  quam  ad  brevitatem, 
optimum  fore  censemus,  si  hujusmodi  loci  contrahantur  in 
sententias  quasdam  acutas  et  coucisas ;  tanquam  glomos 
quosdam,  quorum  fila  in  fusiorem  discursum,  cum  res  postulat, 

explicari  possint Ejus  generis,  cum  plurima  parata 

habeamus,  aliqua  ad  exemplum  proponere  visum  est.     Ea 
autem  antitheta  rerum  nominamus. 

[It  is  worth  observing  that  several  of  these  commonplaces 
of  Bacon  have  become  proverbs  ',  and  others  of  them  are 
well  calculated  to  become  so.  And  most  of  the  proverbs  that 
are  in  use  in  various  languages  are  of  a  similar  character  to 
these. 

Considering  that  proverbs  have  been  current  in  all  ages 
and  countries,  it  is  a  curious  circumstance  that  so  much  dif- 
ference of  opinion  should  exist  as  to  the  utility  and  as  to  the 
design  of  them.  Some  are  accustomed  to  speak  as  if  proverbs 
contained  a  sort  of  concentrated  essence  of  the  wisdom  of  all 
ages,  which  will  enable  any  one  to  judge  and  act  aright  on 
every  emergency.  Others,  on  the  contrary,  represent  them 
as  fit  only  to  furnish  occasionally  a  motto  for  a  book,  a  theme 
for  a  schoolboy's  exercise,  or  a  copy  for  children  learning  to 
write. 

12  (353) 


854  APPENDIX   [a]. 

To  me^  bot^  these  opinions  appear  erroneous. 

That  proverbs  are  not  generally  regarded,  by  those  who 
use  them,  as,  necessaril}?-,  propositions  of  universal  and  ac- 
knowledged truth,  like  mathematical  axioms^  is  plain  from 
the  circumstance  that  many  of  those  most  in  use  are — like 
these  commonplaces  of  Bacon — opposed  to  each  other;  as, 
e.  g.,  ^'Tako  care  of  the  pence,  and  the  pounds  will  take  care 
of  themselves,"  to  "  Be  not  penny-wise  and  pound-foolish  -,' 
and  again,  "The  more  haste,  the  worse  speed,"  or,  "Wait  a 
while,  that  we  may  make  an  end  the  sooner,"  to  "  Take  time 
by  the  forelock,"  or  "Time  and  tide  for  no  man  bide,"  etc. 

It  seems,  I  think,  to  be  practically  understood,  that  a 
proverb  is  merely  a  compendious  expression  of  some  principle, 
which  will  usually  be,  in  different  cases,  and  with  or  without 
certain  modifications,  true  or  false,  applicable  or  inapplicable. 
When  then  a  proverb  is  introduced,  the  speaker  usually  em- 
ploys it  as  a  major  p)remiss,  and  is  understood  to  imply,  as  a 
minor,  that  the  principle  thus  referred  to  is  applicable  in  the 
existing  case.  And  what  is  gained  by  the  employment  of  the 
proverb  is,  that  his  judgment,  and  his  reason  for  it,  are  con- 
veyed, through  the  use  of  a  well-known  form  of  expression, 
clearly,  and  at  the  same  time  in  an  incomparably  shorter  space, 
than  if  he  had  had  to  explain  his  meaning  in  expressions 
framed  for  the  occasion.  And  the  brevity  thus  obtained  is 
often  still  further  increased  by  suppressing  the  full  statement 
even  of  the  very  proverb  itself,  if  a  very  common  one,  and 
merely  alluding  to  it  in  a  word  or  two. 

Proverbs  accordingly  are  somewhat  analogous  to  those 
medical  formulas  which,  being  in  frequent  use,  are  kept 
ready-made-up  in  the  chemists'  shops,  and  which  often  save 
the  framing  of  a  distinct  prescription. 

And  the  usefulness  of  this  brevity  will  not  be  thought,  by 
any  one  well  conversant  with  reasoning,  to  consist  merely  in 
the  saving  of  breath,  paper,  or  time.  Brevity,  when  it  does 
not  cause  obscurity,  conduces  much  to  the  opposite  effect,  and 
causes  the  meaning  to  be  far  more  clearly  apprehended  than 
it  would  have  been  in  a  longer  expression.  More  than  half 
the  cases,  probably,  in  which  men  either  misapprehend  what 
is  said,  or  confuse  one  question  with  another,  or  are  misled 
by  any  fallacy,  are  traceable  in  great  measure  to  want  of 
sufficient  conciseness  of  expression.] 


APPENDIX    [a]. 


855 


PRO. 

Nobilitas  laurea,  qua  tem- 
pus  homines  coronat. 

Antiquitatem  etiam  in  mon- 
umentis  mortuis  veneramur : 
quanto  magis  in  vivis  ? 

Nobilitas  virtutem  invidiae 
subducit,  gratiae  tradit. 


NOBILITAS. 

CONTEA. 

Rare  ex  virtute  nobilitas : 
rarius  ex  nobilitate  virtus. 

Nobiles  majorum  depreca- 
tione,  ad  veniaui,  saepius  utun- 
tur,  quam  sufFragatione,  ad 
honores. 

Tanta  solet  esse  industria 
hominum  novoruni,  ut  nobiles 
prse  illis  tanquam  statuae 
videantur. 

Nobiles  in  studio  respectant 
nimis  saBpe :  quod  mali  cur- 
soris  est. 

[^'Nobilitatem  nemo  con- 
temnit,  nisi  cui  abest :  nemo 
jactitat,  nisi  cui  nihil  aliud 
est  quo  glorietur."*] 


JUVENTUS. 


TKO. 


Senes  sibi  sapiunt  magis; 
aliis  et  reipublicse  minus. 

Si  conspici  daretur,  magis 
deformat  animos,  quam  cor- 
pora, senectus. 

Senes  omnia  metuunt,  prae- 
ter  Deos. 


CONTRA. 

Juventus  poenitentiae  cam- 
pus. 

Ingenitus  est  juvenibus 
senilis  auctoritatis  contemp- 
tus ;  ut  quisque  sub  periculo 
sapiat. 

Tempus,  ad  quae  consilia 
non  advocatur,  nee  rata  habet. 


UXOR  ET  LIBERI. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Charitas  reipublicce  incipit         Qui  uxorem  duxit,  et  libe- 
a  familia.  ros  suscepit,  obsides  fortunac 

Uxor    et    liberi   disciplina     dedit. 


^  This  observation,  in  substance,  is  attributed  to  Bishop  War- 
burton. 


356 


APPENDIX    [a]. 


qugedem  humauitatis ;  et  coe- 
liljes  tetrici  et  severi. 

Coolibatus  et  orbitas  ad  nil 
aliud    conferunt,    quam     ad 


fugam 


Brutorum  eternitas  soboles; 
virorum  fama,  merita,  et  in- 
stituta. 

OEconomicae  rationes  pub- 
licas  plerunque  evertunt. 


DIVITI^. 


PBO. 


CONTRA. 


Divitias    contemnunt, 
desperant. 


qui 


Dum  pliilosopbi  dubitant, 
utrum  ad  virtutem  an  volup- 
tatem  omnia  sint  referenda, 
collige  instrumenta  utriusque. 

Vertus  per  divitias  vertitur 
in  commune  bonum. 


Divitiarum  magnarum  vel 
custodia  est,  vel  dispensatio 
quaedam,  vel  fama;  at  nullus 
usus. 

Anon  vides  lapillis,  et  id 
genus  deli(;iis,  fingi  pretia,  ut 
possit  esse  aliquis  magnaruni 
divitiarum  usus. 

Multi,  dum  divitiis  suis 
omnia  venalia  fore  credide- 
runt,  ipsi  in  primis  venierunt. 

Non  aliud  divitias  dixerim, 
quam  impedimenta  virtutis; 
nam  virtuti  etnecessarisesunt, 
et  graves. 

DivitiaB  bona  ancilla,  pes- 
sima  domina. 


HONORES. 


PRO. 


Honores  faciunt  et  virtutes 
et  vitia  conspicua;  itaque 
illas  provocant,  lisec  refraa- 
nant. 

Non  novit  quispiam,  quan- 
tum in  virtutis  cursu  profe- 
cerit,  nisi  honores  ei  campum 
praebeant  apertum. 


CONTRA. 

Dum  honores  appetimus, 
.libertatem  exuimus. 

Honores  dant  fere  potesta- 
tem  earum  rerum,  quas  optima 
conditio  est  nolle,  proxima  non 
posse. 

Honorum  ascensus  arduus, 
statio  lubrica,  regressus  prae- 
ceps. 

Qui  in  honore  sunt,  vulgi 
opinionem  mutuentur  oportet, 
ut  seipsos  beatos  putent. 


APPENDIX    [a]. 


857 


PEO. 

Felicitate  frui,  magnum 
bonum  est;  sed  eam  et  aliis 
impertiri  posse,  adhuc  majus. 


IMPERIA. 

CONTRA. 

Quam  miserum,  habere  nil 
fere,  quod  appetas;  infinita, 
quas  metuas ! 


LAUS,  EXISTIMATIO. 


PRO. 


Virtutis  radii  reflexilaudes. 

Laus  honor  is  est,  ad  qucm 
liberis  sufFragiis  pervenitur. 

Honores  diverse  a  diversis 
politiis  conferuntur ;  sed 
laudes  ubique  sunt  libertatis. 

Ne  mireris,  si  vulgus  verius 
loquatur,  quam  honoratiores ; 
quia  etiam  tutius  loquitur. 


CONTRA. 

Fama  deterior  judex,  quam 
nuncia. 

Fama  veluti  fluvius,  levia 
attollit,  solida  mergit. 

Infimarum  virtutum  apud 
vulgus  laus  est,  mediarum 
admiratio,  supremarum  sen- 
sus*  nullus. 


NATURA. 


PRO. 


CONTRA. 


Consuetude  contra  na- 
turam,  quasi  tyrannis  quae- 
dam  est :  et  ito,  ac  levi  occa- 
sione  corruit. 


Cogitamus  secundum  na- 
turam ;  loquimur  secundum 
prgecepta ;  sed  agimus  secun- 
dum consuetudinem. 


PRO. 


Yirtutes  apertae  laudes  pa- 
riunt,  occultae,  fortunas. 

Fortuna  veluti  galaxia ;  hoc 
est,  nodus  quarandum  obscu- 
rarum  virtutum,  sine  nomine. 


FORTUNA. 

CONTRA. 

Stultitia  unius,  fortuna  al- 
terius. 


*  This  is  perhaps*  wnc?er-stated.  The  vulgar  are  apt,  not  merely 
not  to  understand,  but  to  contemn,  the  highest  virtues  ;  such  as  even- 
handed  justice,  and  disinterested  public  spirit ;  attributing  such 
conduct  as  results  from  these  to  want  of  feeling,  stupidity,  or  a 
whimsical  half-insanity. 


358  APPENDIX    [a]. 


VITA. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Pr£Estat    ad    omnia,   etiam         Non  invenias  inter  humanos 

ad  virtutem,  curicuUuni  Ion-  affectum  tarn  pusillum,  qui  si 

gum,  quam  breve.  intendaturpaulovehementius, 

Absque  spatiis  vitae  major-  non  mortis  metum  superet. 
ibus,  nee  perficere  datur,  nee 
perdiscere,  nee  poenitere. 

SUPERSTITIO. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Qui  zelo  peccant,  non  pro-         Ut  simige,  similitude  cum 
bandi,  sed  tamen  amandi  sunt,     homine,  deformitatem  addit; 

ita    superstitioni,    similitude 
cum  religione. 

Praestat  nullam  habere  de 
diis  opinionem,  quam  con- 
tumeliosam. 

SUPERBIA. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Superbia  etiam  vitiis  inso-         Hedera  virtutum  ac  bono- 

ciabilis ;    atque   ut   venenum  rum  omnium,  superbia. 
veneno,  ita  baud  pauca  vitia         Cetera  vitia  virtutibus  tan- 

superbia  expelluntur.  tum  contraria ;  superbia  sola 

Facilis,  etiam  alienis  vitiis  contagiosa, 
obnoxius  est ;  superbus   tan- 
tum  suis. 

INVIDIA. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Invidia    in    rebuspublicis,         Nemo  virtuti  invidiam  re- 
tanquam  salubris  ostracismus.     conciliaverit  prseter  mortem. 

Invidia  virtutes  laboribus 
exercet,  ut  Juno  Herculem. 

IMPUDICITIA. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Omnes,  ut  Paris  qui  formae 
optionem  faciunt,  prudentise 
et  potentiae  jacturam  faciunt 


APPENDIX    [a]. 


359 


GLORIA  VANA. 


PRO. 


CONTRA. 


Qui    suas    laudes   appetit, 
alioruin   simul   appetit    utili-         Turpe  est  proco  solicitare 
t^tes.  ancillam;  est  auteni  virtutis 

ancilla  laus. 


FORTITUDO. 


PRO. 


Nil  aut  in  voluptate  solidum, 
aut  in  virtute  munitum^  ubi 
timur  infestat. 

CsBterae  virtutes  nos  a  domi- 
natu  liberant  vitiorum ;  for- 
titude sola  a  dominatu  for- 
tunae. 


CONTRA. 

Vitae  sua3  prodigus,  alienae 
periculosus. 

Virtus  fcrrcas  fctatis  forti- 
tude. 


CONSTANTIA. 


PRO. 


CONTRA. 


Basis  virtutum  censtantia. 

Miser  est,  qui  qualis  ipse 
futurus  sit,  non  novit. 

Etiam  vitiis  decus  aspirat 
censtantia. 

Si  ad  fertunaB  inconstan- 
tiam  accedat  etiam  inconstan- 
tia  mentis,  in  quantis  tenebris 
vivitur ! 

Fertuna,  tanquam  Proteus, 
si  perseveres,  ad  fermam  redit. 


Censtantia,  ut  janitrix  me- 
rosa,  multa  utilia  indicia  abigit. 

^quum  est,  ut  censtantia 
res  adversas  bene  teleret; 
nam  fere  inducit. 

Stultitia  brevissima  optima. 


SCIENTIA,  CONTEMPLATIO. 


PRO. 

Ea  demum  voluptas  est  se- 
cundum naturam,  cujus  nen 
est  satietas. 

Omnes  affectus  pravi,  fate 
sestimationes  sunt ;  atque 
eadem  sunt  benitas  et  Veritas. 


CONTRA. 

Centemplatie,  speciesa  in- 
ertia. 

Bene  cogitare,  nen  multo 
melius  est,  quam  bene  sem- 
niare. 


360  APPENDIX    [a]. 

/ 

LITERiE. 

PEO.  OONTEA. 

Lectio  est  conversatio  cum         Quae    unquam    ars   docuit 
prudentibus ;  actio  fere   cum     tempestivum  artis  usum  ? 
stultis.  '  Artis     saepissime    ineptus 

Non  inutiles   scientiae  ex-     usus  est,  ne  sit  nullus. 
istimandae  sunt,  quarum  in  se 
nullus    est   usus,    si    ingenia 
acuant,  et  ordinent. 

PROMPTITUDO. 

PEG.  CONTEA. 

Opportuna   prudentia   non 
est,  quae  celeris  non  est.  Cujus  consilia  non  maturat 

Qui  cito  errat,  cito  errorem  deliberatio,   nee    prudentiam 

emendat.  aetas. 

POPULARITAS. 

PEG.  CGNTEA. 

Qui  ipsi  magni  viri  sunt,         Infima  assentatio  est  assen- 
neminem  unum  fere  habent,     tatio  vulgi. 

quern  vereantur,  sed  populum. 

* 

DISSIMULATIO. 

PEG.  CGNTEA. 

Dissimulatio,    compendiara  Quibus  artes  civiles  supra 

sapientia.  captum  ingenii  sunt,  iis  dis- 

Sepes  consiliorum,  dissimu-  simulatio  pro  prudentia  erit. 

latio.  Qui    dissimulat,    praecipuo 

Qui  indissimulanter  omnia  ad  agendum   instrumento   se 

agit,  aequo  decipit;  nam  plu-  privat,  i.  e.,  fide, 

rimi,  aut  non  capiunt,  aut  non  Dissimulatio    dissimulatio- 

credunt.  nem  invitat. 

CEREMONIiE,  PUNCTI,  AFFECTATIO. 

PEG.  CONTEA. 

Si  et  in  verbis  vulgo  pare-  Quid  deformius,  quam  sce- 

mus,   quidni    in    habitu,    et  nam  in  vitam  transferre  ? 

gestu?      "  Magis    placent     cerussatae 

Virtus   et   prudentia   sine  buccae,  et  calamistrata  coma 


APPENDIX    [a]. 


861 


punctis,  velut  peregrinaa  lin- 
guae sunt ;  nam  vulgo  non  in- 


telliguntur. 


Puncti  translatio  sunt  vir- 
tutis  in  linguain  vernaculum. 


quam  cerussati  et  calamistrati 
mores. 


AMICITIA. 


PRO. 

Pcssima  solitudo,  non  veras 
habere  amicitias. 

Digna  malae  fidei  ultio,  ami- 
citiis  privari. 


CONTRA. 

Qui  amicitias  arctas  copu- 
lat,  novas  necessitates  sibi 
imponit. 

Animi  imbecilei  est,  partiri 
fortunam. 


VINDICTA. 


PRO. 


CONTRA. 


Vindicta    privata,   justitia 


agrestis. 


Qui   vim   rependit,   legem 
tantum  violat,  non  hominem. 

Utilis   metus  ultionis   pri- 
vatae;     nam 
saepe  dormiunt. 


leges    nimium 


Qui  injuriam  fecit,  princi- 
pium  malo  dedit ;  qui  reddi- 
dit, modum  abstulit. 

Vindicta,  quo  magis  natu- 
ralis,  eo  magis  coercenda. 

Qui  facile  injuriam  reddit, 
is  fortassee  tempore,  non  vo- 
luntate  posterior  erat. 


INNOVATIO. 


PRO. 

Omnis  medicina  innovatio. 

Qui  nova  remedia  fugit, 
nova  mala  operitur. 

Novator  maximus  tempus : 
quidni  igitur  tempus  imite- 
mur  ? 

Morosa  morum  retentio,  res 
turbulenta  est,  seque  ac  no- 
.  vitas. 

Cum  per  se  res  mutentur 
in  deterius,  si  consilio  in  me- 
lius non  mutentur,  quis  finis 
erit  mali  ? 


CONTRA. 

Nullus  auctor  placet,  praa- 
ter  tempus. 

Nulla  novitas  absque  inju- 
ria ;  dam  pra3sentia  cohvellit. 

Quas  usu  obtinuere,  si  non 
bona,  at  saltern  apta  inter  se 
sunt. 

Quis  novator  tempus  imi- 
tatur,  quod  novationes  ita  in- 
sinuat,  ut  sensus  fallant  ? 

Quod  prgeter  spera  evenit, 
cui  prodest,  minus  acceptum ; 
cui  obest,  magis  molestum. 


362 


APPENDIX    [AA]. 


MORA. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Fortuna  multa  festinanti  Occasio  instar  Sibyllas  mi- 
venlit,  quibus  morantem  do-  nuit  oblatum,  pretium  auget. 
nat.  Celeritas,  Orel  galea. 


SUSPICIO. 


PRO. 


CONTRA. 


Merito  ejus  fides  suspecta 
est,  quam  suspicio  labefacit. 


Suspicio  fidem  absolvit. 


VERBA  LEGIS. 


PRO. 


CONTRA. 


Non  est  interpretatio,  sed 
divinatio,  qua)  recedit  a  litera. 

Cum  receditur  a  litera,  ju- 
dex transit  in  legislatorem. 


Ex  omnibus  verbis  elicien- 
dus  est  sensus,  qui  interpre- 
tetur  singula. 

Pessima  tyrannis  lex  in 
equuleo. 


PRO  TESTIBUS  CONTRA  ARGUMENTA. 


PRO. 

Secundum  oratorem,  non 
secundum  causam  pronunciat, 
qui  argumentis  nititur. 

Tutum  foret  argumentis 
credere,  si  homines  nihil  ab- 
surdi  facerent. 

Argumenta,  cum  sint  con- 
tra testimonia,  hoc  prgestant, 
ut  res  mira  videatur,  non 
autem  ut  non  vera. 


CONTRA. 

Si  testibus  credendum  sit 
contra  argumenta,  sufiicit, 
tantum  judicem  esse  non  sur- 
dum. 

lis  probation  ibus  tutissimo 
creditur,  quae  rarissime  men- 
tiuntur. 


[AA.]   Introd.,  §4,  p.  28. 

*^  Sometimes  men  will  tell  us  that  they  prefer  a  natural 
and  artless  eloquence,  and  that  very  diligent  preparation  is 
inconsistent  with  such  qualities.  We  verily  believe  that  this 
fallacy,  though  it  lurks  under  an  almost  transparent  ambi- 


APPENDIX  [AA].  363 

guity,  is  of  most  prejudicial  consequence.  Nature  and  art,  so 
far  from  being  always  opposed,  are  often  tlie  very  same  thing. 
Thus — to  adduce  a  familiar  example,  and  closely  related  to 
the  present  subject — it  is  natural  for  a  man  who  feels  that 
he  has  not  given  adequate  expression  to  a  thought,  though 
he  may  have  used  the  first  words  suggested,  to  attempt  it 
again  and  again.  He  each  time  approximates  nearer  to  the 
mark,  and  at  length  desists,  satisfied  either  that  he  has  done 
what  he  wishes,  or  that  he  cannot  perfectly  do  it,  as  the  case 
may  be.  A  writer,  with  this  end,  is  continually  transposing 
clauses,  reconstructing  sentences,  striking  out  one  word  and 
putting  in  another.  All  this  may  be  said  to  be  art^  or  the 
deliberate  application  of  means  to  ends ;  but  is  it  art  incon- 
sistent with  nature?  It  is  just  such  art  as  this  that  we  ask 
of  the  preacher,  and  no  other  :  simply  that  he  shall  take  dili- 
gent heed  to  do  what  he  has  to  do  as  well  as  he  can.  Let 
him  depend  upon  it,  that  no  such  art  as  this  will  ever  make 
him  appear  the  less  natural. 

^'A  similar  fallacy  lurks  under  the  unmeaning  phrases 
which  are  often  bestowed  upon  simplicity.  We  love  sim- 
plicity as  much  as  any  of  its  eulogists  can  do ;  but  we  should 
probably  diff'er  about  the  meaning  of  the  word.  While  some 
men  talk  as  if  to  speak  naturally  were  to  speak  like  a  natural, 
others  talk  as  if  to  speak  with  simplicity  meant  to  speak  like 
a  simpleton.  True  simplicity  does  not  consist  in  what  is 
trite,  bald,  or  commonplace.  So  far  as  regards  the  thought, 
it  means,  not  what  is  already  obvious  to  everybody,  but  what, 
though  not  obvious,  is  immediately  recognized,  as  soon  as 
propounded,  to  be  true  and  striking.  As  it  regards  the  ex- 
pression, it  means,  that  thoughts  worth  hearing  are  expressed 
in  language  that  every  one  can  understand.  In  the  first 
point  of  view,  it  is  opposed  to  what  is  abstruse ;  in  the  second, 
to  what  is  obscure.  It  is  not  what  some  men  take  it  to  mean, 
threadbare  commonplace,  expressed  in  insipid  language.  It 
can  be  owing  only  to  a  fallacy  of  this  kind,  that  we  so  often 
hear  discourses  consisting  of  little  else  than  meagre  truisms, 
expanded  and  diluted  till  every  mortal  ear  aches  that  listens. 
We  have  heard  preachers  commence  with  the  tritest  of 
truths — 'All  men  are  mortals' — and  proceed  to  illustrate  it 
with  as  much  prolixity  as  though  they  were  announcing  it  as 
a  new  proposition  to  a  company  of  immortals  in  some  distant 


864  ^  APPENDIX    [AA]. 

planetj  brought  with  difficulty  to  believe  a  fact  so  portentous, 
and  unauthenticated  by  their  own  experience. 

"  True  simplicity  is  the  last  and  most  excellent  grace  which 
can  belong  to  a  speaker,  and  is  certainly  not  to  be  attained 
without  much  effort.  Those  who  have  attentively  read  the 
present  article,  will  not  suspect  us  of  demanding  more  de- 
liberate preparation  on  the  part  of  the  preacher  that  he  may 
offer  what  is  profound,  recondite,  or  abstruse;  but  that  he 
may  say  only  what  he  ought  to  say,  and  that  what  he  does 
say  may  be  better  said.  When  the  topics  are  such  only  as 
ought  to  be  insisted  on,  and  the  language  such  as  is  readily 
understood,  the  preacher  may  depend  upon  it  that  no  pains 
he  may  take  will  be  lost — that  his  audience,  however  homely, 
will  be  sure  to  appreciate  them — and  that  the  better  a  dis- 
course is,  the  better  they  will  like  it. 

^'  We  have  stated  as  the  other  great  cause  of  the  failure  of 
preachers,  that  they  are  not  sufficiently  instructed  in  the 
principles  of  pulpit  eloquence.  We  are  far  from  contending 
that  a  systematic  exposition  of  the  laws  in  conformity  with 
which  all  effective  discourses  to  the  people  must  be  con- 
structed, should  be  made  a  part  o^ general  education  ;  or  that 
it  ought  to  be  imparted  even  to  him  who  is  destined  to  be  a 
public  speaker  till' his  general  training — and  that  a  very 
ample  one — has  been  completed.  But  that  such  knowledge 
should  be  acquired  by  every  one  designed  for  such  an  office, 
and  that  all  universities  and  colleges  should  furnish  the  means 
of  communicating  it,  we  have  no  manner  of  doubt. 

"  Youthful  vanity  and  inexperience  alone  sufficiently  ac- 
count for  the  greater  part  .of  the  deviations  from  propriety, 
simplicity,  and  common  sense,  now  adverted  to.  Those  who 
laud  nature  in  opposition  to  art,  are  too  apt  to  forget  that  this 
very  vanity  forms  a  part  of  it.  It  is  natural  for  a  youth, 
whether  with  or  without  cultivation,  to  fall  into  these  errors ; 
and  all  experience  loudly  proclaims  that,  on  such  a  point, 
nature  alone  is  no  safe  guide.  Who,  that  has  arrived  at  ma- 
turity in  intellect,  taste  and  feeling,  does  not  recollect  how 
hard  it  was  in  early  life  to  put  the  extinguisher  upon  a  fine 
metaphor  or  dazzling  expression;  to  reject  tinsel,  however 
worthless,  if  it  did  but  glare — and  epithets,  however  super- 
fluous, if  they  but  sounded  grand  ?  how  hard  it  was  to  forget 
one's  self,  and  to  become  sincerely  intent  upon  the  best,  sim- 


APPENDIX    [AA].  365 

plest,  strongest,  briefest  mode  of  comTnunicating  what  we 
deemed  important  truth  to  the  minds  of  others  ?  Surely  it  is 
not  a  little  ridiculous  then,  when  so  obvious  a  solution  offers 
itself,  to  charore  the  faults  of  young  speakers  upon  the  very 
precepts  which  condemn  them.  It  is  suflScient  to  vindicate 
the  utility  of  such  precepts,  if  they  tend  only  in  some  mea- 
sure to  correct  the  errors  they  cannot  entirely  suppress,  and 
to  abridge  the  duration  of  follies  which  they  cannot  wholly 
prevent. 

"  But  it  is  further  said,  that,  somehow  or  other,  any  such 
system  of  instruction  does  injury,  by  laying  upon  the  intellect 
a  sort  of  constraint,  and  substituting  a  stiff  mechanical  move- 
ment for  the  flexibility  and  freedom  of  nature. 

"  We  reply,  that  if  the  system  of  instruction  be  too  minute, 
or  if  the  pupil  be  told  to  employ  it  mechanically,  we  can  easily 
conceive  that  such  effects  will  follow;  but  not  otherwise. 
We  plead  for  no  system  of  minute  technical  rules ;  still  less 
for  the  formal  application  of  any  system  whatever.  But  to 
imbue  the  mind  with  great  general  principles,  leaving  them 
to  operate  imperceptibly  upon  the  formation  of  habit,  and  to 
suggest,  without  distinct  consciousness  of  their  presence,  the 
lesson  which  the  occasion  demands,  is  a  very  different  thing, 
and  is  all  we  contend  for.  One  would  think,  to  hear  some 
men  talk,,  that  it  was  proposed  to  instruct  a  youth  to  adjust 
beforehand  the  number  of  sentences  of  which  each  paragraph 
should  consist,  and  the  lengths  into  which  the  sentences 
should  be  cut — to  determine  how  many  should  be  perfect 
periods,  and  how  many  should  not — what  allowance  of  anti- 
theses, interrogatives,  and  notes  of  admiration  shall  be  given 
to  each  page — where  he  shall  stick  on  a  metonymy  or  a  meta- 
phor, and  how  many  niches  he  shall  reserve  for  gilded  orna- 
ments. Who  is  pleading  for  any  such  nonsense  as  this  ?  All 
that  we  contend  for  is,  that  no  public  speaker  should  be  des- 
titute of  a  clear  perception  of  those  principles  of  man's  nature 
on  which  conviction  and  persuasion  depend;  and  of  those 
proprieties  of  style  which  ought  to  characterize  all  discourses 
which  are  designed  to  effect  these  objects.  General  as  all 
this  knowledge  must  be,  we  cannot  help  thinking  that  it 
would  be  most  advantageous.  One  great  good  it  would  un- 
doubtedly in  many  cases  effect :  it  would  prevent  men  from 
setting  out  wrong,  or  abridge  the  amount  or  duration  of  their 


366  APPENDIX  [b]. 

errors;  in  other  words,  prevent  the  formation  of  vicious 
habits,  or  tend  to  correct  them  when  formed.  Nothing  is 
more  common  than  for  a  speaker  to  set  out  with  false  notions 
as  to  the  style  which  effective  public  speaking  requires — to 
suppose  it  something  very  remote  from  what  is  simple  and 
natural.  Still  more  are  led  into  similar  errors  by  their 
vanity.  The  young  .especially  are  apt  to  despise  the  true 
style  for  what  are  its  chief  excellences — its  simplicity  and 
severity.  Let  them  once  be  taught  its  great  superiority  to 
every  other,  and  they  will  at  least  be  protected  from  involun- 
tary errors,  and  less  likely  to  yield  to  the  seductions  of  vanity. 
Such  a  knowledge  would  also  (perhaps  the  most  important 
benefit  of  all)  involve  a  knowledge  of  the  best  models,  and 
secure  timely  appreciation  of  them. 

"But  it  is  frequently  urged  that,  after  all,  the  practical 
value  of  all  the  great  lessons  of  criticism  must  be  learned  from 
experience,  and  that  mere  instruction  can  do  little.  Be  it  so. 
Is  this  any  reason  why  that  little  should  be  withheld  ?  Be- 
sides, is  it  nothing  to  put  a  youth  in  the  right  way?  to 
abridge  the  lessons  of  experience  ?  to  facilitate  the  formation 
of  good  habits,  and  to  prevent  the  growth  of  bad  ones  ?  to 
diminish  the  probabilities  of  failure,  and  to  increase  those  of 
success  ?  Is  there  any  reason  why  we  should  suffer  the  young 
speaker  to  grope  out  his  way  by  the  use  of  the  lead-line  alone, 
when  we  could  give  him  the  aid  of  the  chart  and  compass ; 
or  to  find  his  way  to  truth  at  last  by  a  series  of  painful 
blunders,  when  any  part  of  the  trouble  might  be  spared  him? 
Can  any  one  doubt  that  a  great  speaker  might  be  able  to 
give  a  young  beginner  many  profitable  hints  which  would 
save  him  both  much  time  and  many  errors,  and  make  the 
lessons  of  experience  not  only  a  great  deal  shorter,  but  vastly 
less  troublesome  ?'' — Udinburgh  Review,  (Oct.,  1840,)  pp. 
94-98. 


[B.]     Part  I.,  Chap,  ii.,  §  2,  p.  54. 

" there  is  a  distinction  to  be  made  between  the 

unnatural  and  the  merely  improbahle  :  a  fiction  is  unnatural, 
when  there  is  some  assignable  reason  against  the  events 
taking  place  as  described — when  men  are  represented  as 
acting  contrary  to  the  character  assigned  them,  or  to  human 


APPENDIX    [b].  3G7 

nature  in  general;  as  when  a  young  lady  of  seventeen, 
brought  up  in  ease,  luxury,  and  retirement,  with  no  com- 
panions but  the  narrow-minded  and  illiterate,  displays,  (as  a 
heroine  usually  does,)  under  the  most  trying  circumstances, 
such  wisdom,  fortitude,  and  knowledge  of  the  world,  as  the 
best  instructors  and  the  best  examples  can  rarely  produce 
without  the  aid  of  a  more  mature  age  and  longer  experience.* 
On  the  other  hand,  a  fiction  is  still  improbable,  though  not 
unnatural,  when  there  is  no  reason  to  be  assigned  why  things 
should  not  take  place  as  represented,  except  that  the  over- 
halance  of  chances  is  against  it.  The  hero  meets,  in  his  ut- 
most distress,  most  opportunely  with  the  very  person  to  whom 
he  had  formerly  done  a  signal  service,  and  who  happens  to 
communicate  to  him  a  piece  of  intelligence  which  sets  all  to 
rights.  Why  should  he  not  meet  him  as  well  as  any  one 
else  ?  All  that  can  be  said  is,  that  there  is  no  reason  why 
he  should.  The  infant  who  is  saved  from  a  wreck,  and  who 
afterwards  becomes  such  a  constellation  of  virtues  and  accom- 
plishments, turns  out  to  be  no  other  than  the  nephew  of  the 
very  gentleman  on  whose  estate  the  waves  had  cast  him,  and 
whose  lovely  daughter  he  had  so  long  sighed  for  in  vain : 
there  is  no  reason  to  be  given,  except  from  the  calculation  of 
chances,  why  he  should  not  have  been  thrown  on  one  part 
of  the  coast  as  well  as  another.  Nay,  it  would  be  nothing 
unnatural,  though  the  most  determined  novel-reader  would 
be  shocked  at  its  improbability,  if  all  the  hero's  enemies, 
while  they  were  conspiring  his  ruin,  were  to  be  struck  dead 
together  by  a  lucky  flash  of  lightning;  yet  many  denoue- 
ments which  are  decidedly  unnatural,  are  better  tolerated 
than  this  would  be.  We  shall  perhaps  best  explain  our 
meaning  by  examples,  taken  from  a  novel  of  great  merit  in 
many  respects.  When  Lord  Glenthorn,  in  whom  a  most  un- 
favorable education  has  acted  on  a  most  unfavorable  disposi- 
tion, after  a  life  of  torpor,  broken  only  by  short  sallies  of 
forced  exertion,  on  a  sudden  reverse  of  fortune  displays  at 

*  Or,  one  might  add,  when  a  lad  born  and  reared  in  a  workhouse 
filled  with  reprobates,  and  afterwards  further  trained  among  hardened 
thieves,  exhibits  a  character  just  the  reverse  of  what  all  reason  and 
all  experience  would  anticipate  from  such  an  education,  this  is  grossly 
unnatural ;  though  many  readers  may  fail  to  perceive  the  fault,  or, 
at  least,  the  magnitude  of  it,  through  the  fallacy  noticed  in  the  text. 


368  APPENDIX    [C]. 

once  the  most  persevering  diligence  in  the  most  repulsive 
studies ;  and  in  middle  life,  without  any  previous  habits  of 
exertion,  any  hope  of  early  business,  or  the  example  of  friends, 
or  the  stimulus  of  actual  want,  to  urge  him,  outstrips  every 
competitor,  though  every  competitor  has  every  advantage 
against  him — this  is  unnatural.  When  Lord  Glenthorn,  the 
instant  he  is  stripped  of  his  estates,  meets,  falls  in  love  with, 
and  is  conditionally  accepted  by  the  very  lady  who  is  re- 
motely entitled  to  those  estates;  when  the  instant  he  has 
fulfilled  the  conditions  of  their  marriage,  the  family  of  the 
person  possessed  of  the  estates  becomes  extinct,  and  by  the 
concurrence  of  circumstances,  against  every  one  of  which  the 
chances  were  enormous,  the  hero  is  reinstated  in  all  his  old 
domains — this  is  merely  improhahle. 

''The  distinction  which  we  have  been  pointing  out  may  be 
plainly  perceived  in  the  events  of  real  life :  when  any  thing 
takes  place  of  such  a  nature  as  we  should  call,  in  a  fiction, 
merely  improbable,  because  there  are  many  chances  against 
it,-  we  call  it  a  lucky  or  unlucky  accident,  a  singular  coinci- 
dence, something  very  extraordinary,  odd,  curious,  etc. , 
whereas  any  thing  which,  in  a  fiction,  would  be  called  un- 
natural, when  it  actually  occurs,  (and  such  things  do  occur,) 
is  still  called  unnatural,  inexplicable,  unaccountable,  incon- 
ceivable, etc.,  epithets  which  are  not  applied  to  events  that 
have  merely  the  balance  of  chances  against  them." — Quar- 
terly Revieio,  No.  xlviii.,  pp.  354,  355.  The  whole  article 
has  been  published  in  Lockhart's  edition  of  the  Works  of 
Sir  W.  Scott,  (who  however  is  not  the  author,)  vol.  xviii.,  p. 
209  :  Miscellaneous  Prose  Works. 

[C]    Part  I.,  Chap,  ii.,  §  2,  p.  56.* 

The  following  is  the  passage  from  the  Fifth  Lecture  on 
Political  Economy  referred  to  in  the  text : 

"  Several  writers  on  Political  Economy  have  described  the 
case  of  a  supposed  race  of  savages  subsisting  on  the  sponta- 
neous productions  of  the  earth,  and  the  precarious  supplies  of 
hunting  and  fishing ;  and  have  then  traced  the  steps  by  which 

*  The  matter  of  the  Note  C,  in  the  Appendix  to  the  former  edi- 
tions, is  to  be  found  in  the  Lecture  subjoined  to  Part  II. 


APPENDIX    [C].  369 

the  various  arts  of  life  would  gradually  have  arisen,  and  ad- 
vanced more  and  more  towards  perfection. 

^  "One  man,  it  is  supposed,  having  acquired  more  skill  than 
his  neighbors  in  the  making  of  bows  and  arrows,  or  darts, 
would  find  it  advantageous,  both  for  them  and  for  himself,  to 
devote  himself  to  this  manufacture,  and  to  exchange  these 
implements  for  the  food  procured  by  others,  instead  of  em- 
ploying himself  in  the  pursuit  of  game.  Another,  from  a 
similar  cause,  would  occupy  himself  exclusively  in  the  •  con- 
struction of  huts,  or  of  canoes ;  another,  in  the  preparing  of 
skins  for  clothing,  etc.  vVnd  the  division  -of  labor  having 
thus  begun,  the  advantages  of  it  would  be  so  apparent,  that 
it  would  rapidly  be  extended,  and  would  occasion  each  person 
to  introduce  improvements  into  the  art  to  which  he  would 
have  chiefly  confined  his  attention.  Those  who  had  studied 
the  haunts  and  the  habits  of  certain  kinds  of  wild  animals,  and 
had  made  a  trade  of  supplying  the  community  with  them, 
would  be  led  to  domesticate  such  species  as  were  adapted  for 
it,  in  order  to  secure  a  supply  of  provisions,  when  the  chase 
might  prove  insufficient.  Those  who  had  especially  studied 
the  places  of  growth,  and  times  of  ripening,  of  such  wild 
fruits  or  other  vegetable  productions  as  were  in  request,  would 
be  induced  to  secure  themselves  a  readier  supply,  by  culti- 
vating them  in  suitable  spots.  And  thus  the  society,  being 
divided  into  husbandmen,  shepherds,  and  artificers  of  various 
kinds,  exchanging  the  produce  of  their  various  labors,  would 
advance,  with  more  or  less  steadiness  and  rapidity,  towards 
the  higher  stages  of  civilization. 

"On  this  subject  I  will  take  the  liberty  of  citing  a  passage 
from  a- very  well-written  and  instructive  book,  the  account  of 
the  New  Zealanders,  in  the  Library  of  Entertaining  Knoio- 
ledge;  a  passage  which  is  the  more  valuable  to  our  present 
purpose,  inasmuch  as  the  writer  is  not  treating  of  the  subject 
with  any  view  whatever  to  the  evidences  of  religion,  and  is 
apparently  quite  unconscious  of  the  argument  which  (as  I 
shall  presently  show)  may  be  deduced  from  what  he  says : 

"^The  especial  distinction  of  the  savage,  and  that  which, 
more  than  any  other  thing,  keeps  him  a  savage,  is  his  ignor- 
ance of  letters.  This  places  the  community  almost  in  the 
same  situation  with  a  herd  of  the  lower  animals,  in  so  far  as 


370  APPENDIX    [C]. 

the  accumulation  of  knowledge,  or,  in  other  words,  any  kind 
of  movement  forward,  is  concerned;  for  it  is  only  by  means 
of  the  art  of  writing  that  the  knowledge  acquired  by  the  ex- 
perience of  one  generation  can  be  properly  stored  up,  so  that 
none  of  it  shall  be  lost,  for  the  use  of  all  that  are  to  follow. 
Among  savages,  for  want  of  this  admirable  method  of  preser- 
vation, there  is  reason  to  believe  the  fund  of  knowledge  pos- 
sessed by  the  community,  instead  of  growing,  generally 
diminishes  with  time.  If  we  except  the  absolutely  necessary 
arts  of  life,  which  are  in  daily  use  and  cannot  be  forgotten, 
the  existing  generation  seldom  seems  to  possess  any  thing 
derived  from  the  past.  Hence  the  oldest  man  of  the  tribe  is 
always  looked  up  to  as  the  wisest — simply  because  ho  has 
lived  the  longest  -,  it  being  felt  that  an  individual  has  scarcely 
a  chance  of  knowing  any  thing  more  than  his  own  experience 
has  taught  him.  Accordingly,  the  New  Zealanders,  for  ex- 
ample, seem  to  have  been  in  quite  as  advanced  a  state  when 
Tasman  discovered  the  country  in  1642,  as  they  were  when 
Cook  visited  it,  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  years  after.' 

'^It  may  be  remarked,  however,  with  reference  to  this  state- 
ment, that  the  absence  of  written  records  is,  though  a  very 
important,  rather  a  secondary  than  a  primary  obstacle.  It  is 
one  branch  of  that  general  characteristic  of  the  savage,  im- 
providence.  If  you  suppose  the  case  of  a  savage  taught  to 
read  and  write,  but  allowed  to  remain,  in  all  other  respects, 
the  same  careless,  thoughtless  kind  of  being,  and  afterwards 
left  to  himself,  he  would  most  likely  forget  his  acquisition  ] 
and  would  certainly,  by  neglecting  to  teach  it  to  his  children, 
suffer  it  to  be  lost  in  the  next  generation.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  you  conceive  such  a  case  (which  certainly  is  con- 
ceivable, and  I  am  disposed  to  think  it  a  real  one)  as  that  of 
a  people  ignorant  of  this  art,  but  acquiring  in  some  degree  a 
thoughtful  and  provident  character,  I  have  little  doubt  that 
their  desire,  thence  arising,  to  record  permanently  their  laws, 
practical  maxims,  and  discoveries,  would  gradually  lead  them, 
first  to  the  use  of  memorial  verses,  and  afterwards  to  some 
kind  of  material  symbols,  such  as  picture-writing,  and  then 
hieroglyphics;  which  might  gradually  be  still  further  im- 
proved into  writing,  properly  so  called.^' 


APPENDIX    [d].  371 

[D.]    Part  1.,  Chap,  ii.,  §  4,  ^).  71. 

"  To  say  that  numerous  old  manuscripts  exist ;  that  they 
admit  of  classification  and  date,  and  other  characteristics;  to 
speak  of  evidence,  derived  from  contemporary  history,  from 
the  monuments  of  art,  from  national  manners  and  customs ; 
to  assert  that  there  have  been  persons  qualified  for  the  task, 
who  have  examined  duly  these  several  branches  of  evidence, 
and  have  given  a  satisfactory  report  of  that  research,  is  to 
make  a  statement  concerning  the  evidence  of  Christianity, 
which  is  intelligible  indeed,  but  is  not  itself  the  evidence, 
not  itself  the  proof,  of  which  you  speak.     So  far  from  this 
being  the  case,  we  cannot  but  feel  that  the  author  who  is 
guiding  us,  and  pointing  out  these  pillars  of  our  faith,  as  they 
appear  engraved  on  his  chart  of  evidence,  can  himself,  what- 
ever be  his  learning,  be  personally  acquainted  with  but  a  very 
small  portion.     The  most  industrious  and  able  scholar,  after 
spending  a  life  on  some  individual  point  of  evidence,  the 
collation  of  manuscripts,  the  illustrations  derived  from  unin- 
spired authors,  translations,  or  whatever  the  inquiry  be,  must, 
after  all,  (it  would  seem,)  rest  by  far  the  greater  part  of  his 
faith  immediately  on  the  testimony  of  others ;  as  thousands 
in  turn  will  rest  their  faith  on  his  testimony  to  the  existence 
of  such  proof  as  he  has  examined.     There  is  no  educated 
Christian  who  is  not  taught  to  appreciate  the  force  of  that 
proof  in  favor  of  the  genuineness  of  the  New  Testament, 
which  maybe  derived  from  the  consent  of  ancient  copies, 
and  the  quotations  found  in  a  long  line  of  fathers  and  other 
writers;  and  yet  not  one  in  a  thousand  ever  reads  the  works 
of  the  fathers,  or  sees  a  manuscript,  or  is  even  capable   of 
deciphering  one,  if  presented  to  him.     He  admits  the  very 
groundwork   of    his    faith    on    the    assertion    of   those  who 
profess  to  have  ascertained  these  points ;  and  even  the  most 
learned  are  no  further  exceptions  to  this  case,  than  in  the 
particular   branch    of    evidence -which    they  have   studied. 
Nay,  even  in  their  use   of  this,  it  will  be  surprising,  when 
we  come  to  reflect  on  it,  how  great  a  portion  must  be  examined 
only  tht-ough  statements  resting  on  the  testimony  of  others. 
"  Nor  is  it  a  question  which   can  be  waived,  by  throwing 
the  weight  of  disproof  on   those  who   cavil  and   deny.     It 
turns  upon  the  use  which  is  made,  more  or  less,  by  all,  of  the 


372  APPENDIX    [d]. 

positive  proofs  urged  in  defence  of  Christianity.  Christian- 
ity is  established ;  and  it  may  be  fair  to  bid  its  assailants 
prove  that  it  is  not  what  it  professes  to  be,  the  presumption 
and  prescriptive  title  being  on  its  side;  but  Christianity  does 
not  intrench  itself  within  this  fortress :  it  brings  out  into 
the  field  an  array  of  evidence  to  establish  that  which,  on  the 
former  view  of  the  case,  its  adherents  are  supposed  not  to  be 
called  on  to  maintain.  It  boasts  of  the  sacred  volume  having 
been  transmitted  pure  by  means  of  manuscripts;  and  by 
asserting  the  antiquity,  the  freedom  from  corruption,  and  the 
independence  and  agreement  of  the  several  classes  of  these, 
the  Christian  contends  for  the  existence  of  his  religion  at  the 
time  when  Christ  and  the  apostles  lived.  Ancient  writings 
are  appealed  to,  and  quotations  cited  by  various  authors  from' 
the  New  Testament  are  adduced,  which  go  to  prove  the  same. 
Even  profane  history  is  made  to  furnish  contemporary  evi- 
dence of  the  first  rise  of  Christianity.  Now  it  is  the  way  in 
which  this  evidence  is  employed  that  is  the  point  to  be  con- 
sidered. The  question  is,  in  what  sense  all  this  can  be  called 
evidence  to  the  mass  of  Christians.  All  this  is,  in  short, 
positive  proof;  and  he  who  has  examined  manuscripts,  or 
read  the  works  in  question,  has  gone  through  the  demonstra- 
tion ;  but  he  who  has  not,  (and  this  is  the  case  with  all, 
making  a  very  few  exceptions,)  has  not  gone  through  the 
process  of  proof  himself,  but  takes  the  conclusion  on  the 
word  of  others.  He  believes  those  who  inform  him  that  they, 
or  others,  have  examined  manuscripts,  read  the  fathers,  com- 
pared profane  history  with  holy  writ.  Can  this  be  called 
reasonable  faith  ?  or,  at  least,  do  we  not  pretend  to  be  believ- 
ing on  proofs  of  various  kinds,  when,  in  fact,  our  belief  rests 
on  the  bare  assertions  of  others  ? 

"It  is  very  important  that  the  case  should  be  set  in  its 
true  light,  because,  supposing  the  Christian  ministry  able, 
and  at  leisure,  to  investigate  and  sift  the  Christian  evidence 
for  themselves,  the  same  cannot  be  done  by  the  barrister,  the 
physician,  the  professional  man  of  whatever  department 
besides  theology,  however  enabled  by  education ;  and  then, 
what  is  to  be  the  lot  of  the  great  mass  of  the  people  ?  They, 
clearly,  are  incompetent  even  to  follow  up  the  several  steps  of 
proof  which  each  proposition  would  require.  They  take  it 
for  granted,  if  they  apply  the  evidence  at  all,  that  these 


.    APPENDIX    [d].  373 

things  are  so,  because  wiser  persons  than  they  say  it  is  so. 
In  the  same  spirit  as  the  question  was  put  of  old,  '  Have  any 
of  the  rulers  believed  on  Christ  ?  but  this  people  who  know- 
eth  not  the  law  are  cursed,'  Christians  must  generally,  it 
would  seem,  believe  in  Christ,  because  their  spiritual  rulers 
do,  and  reject  the  infidel's  views,  because  these  people  aro 
pronounced  accursed.  Nay,  the  supposition  of  the  clergy 
themselves  having  the  qualification,  and  the  opportunity  to 
go  through  the  process  of  proof,  is  only  a  supposition.  They 
often  want  either  or  both ;  and  it  is  impossible  that  it  should 
not  be  so.  The  labor  of  a  life  is  scarcely  sufficient  to  exam- 
ine for  one's  self  one  branch  alone  of  such  evidence.  For 
the  greater  part,  few  men;  however  learned,  have  satisfied 
themselves  by  going  through  the  proof.  They  have  admitted 
the  main  assertions,  because  proved  by  others. 

"And  is  this  conviction  then  reasonable  ?  Is  it  more  than 
the  adoption  of  truth  on  the  authority  of  another  ?  It  is. 
The  principle  on  which  all  these  assertions  are  received,  is 
not  that  they  have  been  made  by  this  or  that  credible  indi- 
vidual or  body  of  persons  who  have  gone  through  the  proof — 
this  may  have  its  weight  with  the  critical  and  learned — but 
the  main  principle  adopted  by  all,  intelligible  by  all,  and  rea- 
sonable in  itself,  is,  that  these  assertions  are  set  forth,  bear- 
ing on  their  face  a  challenge  of  refutation.  The  assertions 
are  like  witnesses  placed  in  a  box  to  be  confronted.  Skepti- 
cism, infidelity,  and  scoffing,  form  the  very  groundwork  of 
our  faith.  As  lonir  as  these  are  known  to  exist  and  to  assail 
it,  so  long  are  we  sure  that  any  untenable  assertion  may  and 
will  be  refuted.  The  benefit  accruing  to  Christianity  in  this 
respect  from  the  occasional  success  of  those  who  have  found 
flaws  in  the  several  parts  of  evidence,  is  invaluable.  We  be- 
lieve what  is  not  disproved,  most  reasonably,  because  we  know 
that  there  are  those  abroad  who  are  doing  their  utmost  to  disprove 
it.  We  believe  the  witness,  not  because  we  know  him  and  esteem 
him,  but  because  he  is  confronted,  cross-examined,  suspected, 
and  assailed  by  arts  fair  and  unfair.  It  is  not  his  authority, 
but  the  reasonableness  of  the  case.  It  becomes  conviction 
well-grounded,  and  not  assent  to  man's  words. 

"At  thofcsame  time,  nothing  has  perhaps  more  contributed 
to  perplex  the  Christian  inquirer,  than  the  impression  which 
va£!;ue  lans^uasre  creates  of  our  conviction  arising:,  not  out  of 


874  APPENDIX    [DD].  ' 

tlie  application  of  this  principle  to  the  external  and  monu- 
mental evidences  of  Christianity,  but  out  of  the  examination 
of  the  evidence  itself.  The  mind  feels  disappointed  and  un- 
satisfied, not  because  it  has  not  ground  for  belief,  but  because 
it  misnames  it.  The  man  who  has  not  examined  any  branch 
of  evidence  for  himself,  may,  according  to  the  principle 
above  stated,  very  reasonably  believe  in  consequence  of  it ; 
but  his  belief  does  not  arise  immediately  out  of  it — is  not 
the  same  frame  of  mind  which  would  be  created  by  an  actual 
examination  for  himself.  It  may  be  more,  or  it  may  be  less, 
a  sure  source  of  conviction ;  but  the  discontent  is  occasioned, 
not  by  this  circumstance,  but  by  supposing  that  it  is  one  of 
these  things  that  does  or  ought  to  influence  us,  when  in  fact 
it  is  the  other;  by  putting  ourselves  in  the  attitude  of  mind 
which  belongs  to  the  witness,  instead  of  that  which  belongs 
to  the  bystander.  We  very  well  know  the  unbroken  testi- 
mony of  writers  during  eighteen  centuries  to  the  truth  of 
Christianity  ought  to  make  us  feel,  if  we  had  ascertained  the 
fact  by  an  examination  of  their  writings ;  and  we  are  sur- 
prised at  finding  that  we  are  not  in  that  frame  of  mind ;  for- 
getting that  our  use  of  the  evidence  may  be  founded  on  a 
diff"erent  principle." — Hinds,  on  Inspiration. 

[DD.]    Part  I.,  Cha^J.  ii.,  §  4,^.  75. 

The  following  extracts  are  from  the  Fifth  Lecture  on  Po- 
litical Economy,  being  the  portion  alluded  to  in  the  text : 

"  When  we  dismiss  for  a  moment  all  antecedent  conjec- 
tures, and  look  around  us  for  instances,  we  find,  I  think  I 
may  confidently  affirm,  no  one  recorded  of  a  tribe  of  savages, 
properly  so  styled,  rising  into  a  civilized  state,  without  in- 
struction and  assistance  from  people  already  civilized.  And 
we  have,  on  the  other  hand,  accounts  of  various  savage  tribes, 
in  difi'ercnt  parts  of  the  globe,  who  have  been  visited  from 
time  to  time  at  considerable  intervals,  but  have  had  no  settled 
intercourse  with  civilized  people,  and  who  appear  to  continue, 
as  far  as  can  be  ascertained,  in  the  same  uncultivated  condi- 
tion. .  .  .  No  savage  tribe  appears  to  have  risen  into 
civilization,  except  through  the  aid  of  others  who^were  civil- 
ized. We  have,  I  think,  in  this  case,  all  the  historical  evi- 
dence that  a  negative  is  susceptible  of:  viz.,  we  have  the 


APPENDIX    [DD].  375 

knowledge  of  numerous  cases  in  which  such  a  change  has 
not  taken  place,  and  of  none  where  it  has,  while  we  have 
every  reason  to  expect  that,  if  it  had  occurred,  it  would  have 
been  recorded.  .  .  ,  There  are  several  circumstances 
which  have  conduced  to  keep  out  of  sight  the  important  fact 
I  have  been  alluding  to.  The  chief  of  these  probably  is, 
the  vagueness  with  which  the  term  'savage'  is  applied.  I 
do  not  profess,  and  indeed  it  is  evidently  not  possible,  to  draw 
a  line  by  which  we  may  determine  precisely  to  whom  that 
title  is,  and  is  not,  applicable;  since  there  is  a  series  of 
almost  insensible  gradations  between  the  highest  and  the 
lowest  state  of  human  society.  Nor  is  any  such  exact 
boundary-line  needed  for  our  present  purpose.  It  is  sufficient 
if  we  admit,  what  is  probably  very  far  short  of  the  truth, 
that  those  who  are  in  as  lota  a  state  as  some  tribes  with  which 
we  are  acquainted,  are  incapable  of  emerging  from  it,  by  their 
own  unassisted  efforts.  .  .  .  There  will  be  no  reason,  I 
think,  for  believing  that  there  is  any  exception  to  the  posi- 
tions I  have  here  laid  down :  the  impossibility  of  men's 
emerging  unaided  from  a  completely  savage  state ;  and,  con- 
sequently, the  descent  of  such  as  are  in  that  state  (supposing 
mankind  to  have  sprung  from  a  single  pair)  from  ancestors 
less  barbarous,  and  from  whom  they  have  degenerated. 

"  Kecords  of  this  descent,  and  of  this  degeneracy,  it  is, 
from  the  nature  of  the  case,  not  likely  we  should  possess ) 
but  several  indications  of  the  fact  may  often  be  found  among 
savage  nations.  Some  have  even  traditions  to  that  effect ;  and 
almost  all  possess  some  one  or  two  arts  not  of  a  piece  with  their 
general  rudeness,  and  which  plainly  appear  to  be  remnants 
of  a  different  state  of  things )  being  such,  that  the  first  in- 
vention of  them  implies  a  degree  of  ingenuity  beyond  what 
the  savages  who  retain  those  arts,  now  possess.  .  .  .  As 
to  the  causes  which  have  occasioned  any  portions  of  mankind 
thus  to  degenerate,  we  are,  of  course,  in  most  instances,  left 
to  mere  conjecture;  but  there  seems  little  reason  to  doubt 
that  the  principal  cause  has  been  war.  A  people  perpetually 
harassed  by  predatory  hostile  incursions,  and  still  more,  one 
compelled  to  fly  their  country  and  take  refuge  in  mountains 
or  forests,*  or  to  wander  to  some  distant  unoccupied  region, 

*  Whence  the  name  of  '*  savage,"  silvogio. 


376  APPENDIX    [DD]. 

(and  this  we  know  to  have  been  anciently  a  common  occur- 
rence,) must  of  course  be  likely  to  sink  in  point  of  civiliza- 
tion. They  must,  amidst  a  series  of  painful  struggles  for 
mere  existence,  have  their  attention  drawn  off  from  all  other 
subjects ;  they  must  be  deprived  of  the  materials  and  the 
opportunities  for  practicing  many  of  the  arts,  till  the  know- 
ledge of  them  is  lost;  and  their  children  must  grow  up,  in 
each  successive  generation,  more  and  more  uninstructed,  and 
disposed  to  be  satisfied  with  a  life  approaching  to  that  of  the 
brutes.  .  .  .  But  whatever  may  have  been  the  causes 
which  in  each  instance  have  tended  to  barbarize  each  nation, 
of  this  we  may,  I  think,  be  well  assured,  that  though,  if  it 
have  not  sunk  below  a  certain  point,  it  may,  under  favorable 
circumstances,  be  expected  to  rise  again,  and  gradually  even 
more  than  recover  the  lost  ground ;  on  the  other  hand,  there 
is  a  stage  of  degradation  from  which  it  cannot  emerge,  but 
through  the  means  of  intercourse  with  some  more  civilized 
people.  The  turbulent  and  unrestrained  passions,  the  indo- 
lence, and,  above  all,  the  want  of  forethought,  which  are 
characteristic  of  savages,  naturally  tend  to  prevent,  and,  as 
experience  seems  to  show,  always  have  prevented,  that  pro- 
cess of  gradual  advancement  from  taking  place,  which  was 
sketched  out  in  the  opening  of  this  Lecture )  except  when 
the  savage  is  stimulated  by  the  example,  and  supported  by 
the  guidance  and  instruction,  of  men  superior  to  himself. 

^'Any  one  who  dislikes  the  conclusions  to  which  these 
views  lead,  will  probably  set  himself  to  contend  against  the 
arguments  which  prove  it  unlikely  that  savages  should  civilize 
themselves;  but  how  will  he  get  over  the  fact,  that  they 
never  yet  have  done  this  ?  That  they  never  can,  is  a  theory ; 
and  something  may  always  be  said,  well  or  ill,  against  any 
theory ;  but  facts  are  stubborn  things  ]  and  that  no  authenti- 
cated instance  can  be  produced  of  savages  that  ever  did 
emerge  unaided  from  that  state,  is  no  theory,  but  a  statement, 
hitherto  uncontradicted,  of  a  matter  of  fact. 

'•'■  Now  if  this  be  the  case,  when  and  how  did  civilization 
first  hegin?  If  man  when  first  created  was  left,  like  the 
brutes,  to  the  unaided  exercise  of  his  natural  powers  of  body 
and  mind — those  powers  which  are  common  to  the  European 
and  to  the  New  Hollander — -how  comes  it  that  the  European 
is  not  now  in  the  condition  of  the  New  Hollander  ?     As  the 


J 


APPENDIX   [dd].  877 

soil  itself,  and  the  climate,  of  Now  Holland  aro  excellently 
adapted  to  the  growth  of  corn,  and  yet  (as  corn  is  not  indi- 
genous there)  could  never  have  borne  any  to  the  end  of  the 
world,  if  it  had  not  been  brought  thither  from  another  coun- 
try, and  sown,  so,  the  savage  himself,  though  he  may  be,  as 
it  were,  a  soil  capable  of  receiving  the  seeds  of  civilization, 
can  never,  in  the  first  instance,  produce  it,  as  of  spontaneous 
growth;  and,  unless  those  seeds  be  introduced  from  some 
other  quarter,  must  remain  for  ever  in  the  sterility  of  bar- 
barism. And  from  what  quarter  then  could  this  first  begin- 
ning of  civilization  have  been  supplied  to  the  earliest  race  of 
mankind  ?  According  to  the  present  course  of  nature,  the 
first  introducer  of  cultivation  among  savages  is,  and  must  be, 
man,  in  a  more  improved  state ;  in  the  beginning,  therefore, 
of  the  human  race,  this,  since  there  was  no  man  to  efi'ect  it, 
must  have  been  the  work  of  another  Being.  There  must 
have  been,  in  short,  a  revelation  made,  to  the  first  or  some 
subsequent  generation  of  our  species.  And  this  miracle  (for 
such  it  is,  as  being  an  impossibility  according  to  the  present 
course  of  nature)  is  attested,  independently  of  the  authority 
of  Scripture,  and  consequently  in  confirmation  of  the  Scrip- 
ture accounts,  by  the  fact  that  civilized  man  exists  at  the 
present  day. 

"Taking  this  view  of  the  subject,  we  have  no  need  to 
dwell  on  the  utility — the  importance — the  antecedent  proba- 
bility— of  a  revelation  :  it  is  established  as  a  fact,  of  which 
a  monument  is  existing  before  our  eyes.  Divine  instruction 
is  proved  to  'be  necessary,  not  merely  for  an  end  which  we 
think  desirable,  or  which  loe  think  agreeable  to  Divine  wis- 
dom and  goodness,  but  for  an  end  which  we  know  has  been 
attained.  That  man  could  not  have  made  himself,  is  ap- 
pealed to  as  a  proof  of  the  agency  of  a  Divine  Creator  ;  and 
that  mankind  could  not  in  the  first  instance  have  civilized 
themselves,  is  a  proof,  exactly  of  the  same  kind,  and  of  equal 
strength,  of  the  agency  of  a  Divine  Instructor. 

"  You  will,  I  suspect,  find  this  argument  press  so  hard  on 
the  adversaries  of  religion,  that  they  will  be  not  unlikely  to 
attempt  evading  its  force,  by  calling  on  you  to  produce  an 
instance  of  some  one  art,  jjecidiar  to  civilized  men,  and  which 
it  may  be  proved  could  not  have  been  derived  but  from  in- 
spiration.    But  this  is  a  manifest  evasion  of  the  argument. 


378  APPENDIX    [DD]. 

For,  -so  far  from  representing  as  peculiar  to  civilized  men  all 
arts  that  seem  beyond  tlie  power  of  savages  to  invent,  I  have 
remarked  the  direct  contrary :  which  indeed  is  just  what 
might  be  expected,  supposing  savages  to  be,  as  I  have  con- 
tended, in  a  degenerated  state. 

"  The  argument  really  employed  (and  all  attempts  to  mis- 
represent it  are  but  fresh  presumptions  that  it  is  unanswer- 
able) consists  in  an  appeal,  not  to  any  particular  art  or  arts, 
but  to  a  civilized  condition  generally.  If  this  was  7Lot  the 
work  of  a  Divine  Instructor,  p7'oduce  an  instance,  if  you  can, 
of  a  nation  of  savages  who  have  civilized  themselves  !'' 

The  arguments  urged  against  these  conclusions  by  writers 
not  deficient  in  intelligence,  are  such  as  to  furnish  no  small 
confirmation  to  any  unbiased  mind ;  being  what  no  man  of 
sense  would  resort  to,  except  when  very  hard  pressed  indeed. 
E.  g.  :  It  has  been  urged  that  no  superhuman  instruction  in 
any  of  the  arts  of  life  could  ever  have  been  afforded  to  man, 
because  the  Jews,  who  are  supposed  to  have  been  peculiarly 
favored  with  revelations  respecting  religion,  were,  in  the  days 
of  Solomon,  ignorant  that  the  diameter  of  a  circle  is  less  than 
one-third  of  the  circumference.  This  is  inferred  from  what 
is  said  in  the  Second  Book  of  Chronicles,  (iv.  2,)  though  the 
inference  is  somewhat  hasty ;  since  the  difference  is  so  minute 
between  one-third  of  the  circumference  and  the  diameter, 
(which  is  less  than  ^j  and  more  than  -^^  of  the  circumfer- 
ence,) that  practically  it  may  generally  be  disregarded  alto- 
gether; and  many  a  person  well  aware  of  the  geometrical 
truth,  will  yet,  in  describing  some  building,  etc.,  speak  as  if 
the  circumference  were  treble  the  diameter;  even  as  he 
might  speak  of  a  straight  line  from  one  place  to  another  on 
the  earth^s  surface ;  though  well  knowing  that  in  reality  the 
line  must  be  not  quite  straight,  but  a  very  small  arch  of  a 
circle.  However,  let  it  be  supposed  that  the  Jews  were  thus 
ignorant :  the  conclusion  thence  drawn  is  such  as,  in  any 
other  subject,  would  be  laughed  to  scorn.  E.  g. :  A  man 
has  his  several  sons  educated  for  the  different  professions  he 
designs  them  for — the  Church,  the  Law,  Medicine,  the  Navy, 
etc. — and  then  if  it  be  found  that  the  lawyer  is  no  anatomist, 
that  the  sailor  has  but  little  knowledge  of  law  and  medicine, 
and  that  the  clergyman  does  not  understand  navigation,  this 
objector  would  be  bound,  on  his  own  principle,  to  infer  that 


APPENDIX    [DD].  379 

the  father  cannot  have  provided  any  education  at  all  for  any 
of  his  children ! 

More  recently,  the  assertion  has  been  made  that  a  solution 
has  been  found  of  the  problem  I  proposed :  that  there  is  an 
instance  of  savages  civilizing  themselves  without  external 
aid.  Such,  it  has  been  said,  were  the  tribe  of  American 
Indians  called  the  Mandans,  near  the  Kocky  Mountains ; 
who  have  been  described  by  Mr.  Catlin  as  having  possessed 
a  considerable  degree  of  civilization,  though  surrounded  by 
savage  tribes.  These  latter,  not  long  ago,  fell  upon  and  de- 
stroyed the  whole  remnant  of  the  tribe,  after  it  had  been 
thinned  by  small-pox. 

Now  all  that  is  wanted,  in  reference  to  the  case  here  pro- 
duced, is — precisely  the  very  thing  that  is  wanted  in  all 
others — ^roof  that  they  had  been  savages,  and  had  civilized 
themselves.  And  this,  which  is  tJie  very  point  at  issue,  in- 
stead of  being  proved,  is  taken  for  granted !  Such  is  the 
short  and  easy  refutation  which  "science,^'  we  are  told,  fur- 
nishes of  the  position  I  was  maintaining ! 

It  is  assumed,  1st,  that  these  Mandans  were  of  the  same 
race  with  the  savage  tribes  around  them  ;  2dly,  that  the  state 
in  which  all  of  them  had  originally  been  was  that  of  savages; 
and  3dly,  that  the  Mandans  raised  themselves  from  that  state 
without  any  external  aid.  And  of  no  one  of  these  assump- 
tions is  there,  or  can  there  be  found,  even  a  shadow  of  proof ! 
To  assume  at  pleasure  any  premises  whatever  that  may  suit 
one's  purpose,  is  certainly  neither  Baconian  nor  Aristotelian 
"science/^ 

1st.  How  do  we  know  that  these  Mandans  were  of  the 
same  race  as  their  neighbors  ?  I  had  an  opportunity,  in  a 
casual  interview  with  Mr.  Catlin,  of  asking  his  opinion  on 
this  point ;  he  instantly  replied  that  he  had  never  doubted 
their  being  a  different  race  :  their  complexion,  he  said,  their 
very  remarkable  and  peculiar  kind  of  hair,  their  customs  and 
whole  character,  all  indicated  a  distinct  nation. 

They  may,  for  aught  we  know,  have  been  a  remnant  either 
of  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  the  region,  or  of  some  colony 
which  had  been  fixed  there;  the  others  having  been  de- 
stroyed— as  these  Mandans  ultimately  were — by  the  sur- 
rounding savages. 

2d.  Again,  if  we  suppose,  in  defiance  of  all  indications  to 


380  APPENDIX    [DD]. 

the  contrary,  that  this  tribe  did  belong  to  the  same  race  as 
their  neighbors,  and  that  consequently  all  were,  once,  at  the 
same  level,  how  do  we  know  that  this  may  not  have  been  the 
higher  level,  from  which  the  others  had  degenerated  ? 

Sdly,  and  lastly,  supposing  that  the  Mandans  did  emerge 
from  the  savage  state,  how  do  we  know  that  this  may  not 
have  been  through  the  aid  of  some  strangers  coming  among 
them — like  the  Manco-capac  of  Peru — from  some  more  civil- 
ized country,  perhaps  long  before  the  days  of  Columbus  ? 

Of  all  these  different  suppositions,  there  is  not  one  that  is 
not  incomparably  more  probable  (since  there  are  recorded  in- 
stances of  the  like)  than  that  which  is  so  coolly  assumed. 

On  the  whole,  the  reasoning  employed  in  this  case  much 
resembles  that  of  some  of  the  alchymists.  When  they  found 
a  few  grains  of  gold  in  a  large  mass  of  ore  of  some  base 
metal,  they  took  for  granted  that  the  whole  had  been  origin- 
ally one  kind  of  metal  ]  and  also,  that  this  one  was,  not  gold, 
of  which  part  had  degenerated  into  lead,  but  lead,  of  which 
part  had  ripened  into  gold ;  and  thence  they  easily  inferred 
the  possibility  of  transmutation. 

Such  attempts  at  refutation  as  this,  serve  to  show  the 
strength  of  the  position  assailed.  The  position,  however,  was 
one  which  it  was  necessary  to  assail  somehow  or  other,  from 
its  being  fatal  to  the  attempt  made  to  revive  Lamarck's 
theory  of  the  spontaneous  transition  of  one  species  into  an- 
other of  a  higher  character  ]  the  lowest  animalcules  having, 
it  seems,  in  many  generations,  ripened  into  fish,  thence  into 
reptiles,  beasts,  and  men.  Of  the  earlier  stages  of  these  sup- 
posed transmutations  I  never  had  occasion  to  treat ;  but  the 
view  I  took  of  the  condition  of  savages,  ^'breaks  the  pitcher" 
(as  the  Greek  proverb  expresses  it)  ''at  the  very  threshold:" 
supposing  the  animalcule  safely  conducted,  by  a  series  of  bold 
conjectures,  through  the  several  transmutations,  till  from  an 
ape  it  became  a  man,  there  is,  as  I  have  shoVn,  an  insuper- 
able difficulty  in  the  last  step  of  all,  from  the  savage  to  the 
civilized  man. 

There  is,  however,  in  truth,  a  similar  difficulty — or  rather 
impossibility — in  every  preceding  stage.  The  theory  pro- 
ceeds throughout  on  unsupported  and  most  improbable  con- 
jectures. One,  and  only  one,  fact  is  alleged  that  is  open  to 
the  test  of  experiment;  on  the  reality  of  which  fact,  there- 


APPENDIX   [dd].  331 

fore,  the  whole  theory  may  be  considered  as  staked  It  is 
asserted  that  oats,  if  kept  constantly  mown  down  durino-  the 
summer,  will,  the  next  year,  become  rye.  And  this  beino- 
the  only  instance  adduced  that  is  not,  confessedly,  a  mere 
conjecture,  it  is  consequently  the  basis— supposing  it  estab- 
lished— ot  all  the  conjectures  thrown  out.  Now  I  would 
suggest  to  some  of  our  agriculturists  to  offer  a  trial  of  the 
e.ipenme7i^  proposing  to  the  speculators  a  wager  on  its  suc- 
cess. It  the  oats  do  become  rye,  the  conjectures  as  to  other 
transmutations  will  at  least  be  worth  listening  to  •  should  it 
prove— as  I  have  no  doubt  it  will— a  failure,  the  keystone  of 
the  whole  structure  will  have  been  taken  away 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  add,  that  I  have  seen  it  su-. 
gested— apparently  as  a  hasty  conjecture— that  there  mSr 
perhaps  be  different  species  or  varieties  of  mankind-  of 
which  some  are  capable  of  originating  civilization  by  their 
own  natural  powers,  while  others  are  only  capable  of  receiv- 
ing it  by  instruction.  What  I  wish  chiefly  to  point  out  is, 
that  admitting— and  it  would  be  a  great  deal  to  admit— the 
possibility  of  the  supposition,  it  would  leave  unsolved  the 
main  problem  :  to  produce  an  instance  of  savages  who  have 
civilized  themsdves.  None  can  be  found;  and  the  supposed 
capabi  ity  of  self-civilization,  if  it  has  ever  existed,  seems 
never  to  have  been  called  into  play. 

Of  the  hypothesis  itself,  the  utmost  that  can  be  said  is 
that  it  cannot  be  demonstrated  to  be  impossible.     There  is 
not  only  no  proof  of  it  whatever,  but  all  the  evidence  that 
the  case  admits  of  is  on  the  opposite  side. 

Great  as  are  the  differences  in  respect  of  size,  color,  and 
outward  appearance,  in  those  different  races  of  animals  (such 
as  dogs  and  horses  of  different  breeds)  which  are  capable— 
as  we  know  is  the  case  with  the  human  races— of  free  inter- 
mixture, there  is  no  case,  I  think,  of  so  great  and  essential  a 
difference  in  these,  as  there  would  be  between  the  supposed 
two  varieties  of  man :  the  "self-civilizing,-  and  man  such  as 
we  know  to  exist.  That  difference  indeed  would  hardly  be 
less  than  .between  man  and  brute.  If  a  good  physiologist 
were  convinced  of  the  existence  of  two  such  races,  (whether 
called  species  or  varieties,)  one  of  them  a  being  capable— 
when  left,  wholly  untrained,  to  the  mere  spontaneous  exercise 
ot  his  natural  endowments— of  emerging  from  the  savage 


382  APPENDIX  [ddd]. 

state,  so  as  to  acquire,  in  the  course  of  successive  genera- 
tions, the  highest  point  of  civilization,  and  the  other  such  as 
actual  experience  presents  to  us,  he  would,  I  think,  assign 
to  this  latter  an  intermediate  place  between  the  self-civilizing 
man  and  the  orang-outang,  and  nearly  equidistant  from 
each ;  and  he  would  not  conceive  the  possibility  of  an  inter- 
mixture of  any  two  of  the  three  races. 

However,  allowing  the  abstract  possibility  of  the  conjecture 
I  have  been  alluding  to,  the  main  argument,  as  I  have  said, 
remains  untouched.  If  man,  generally,  or  some  particular 
race,  be  capable  of  "self-civilization,"  in  either  case  it  may 
be  expected  that  some  record,  or  tradition,  or  monument  of 
the  actual  occurrence  of  such  an  event  should  be  found ;  and 
all  attempts  to  find  any  have  failed. 

See  Dr.  Taylor^s  Natural  History  of  Society. 

[DDD.]     Part  L,  Chap,  ii.,  §  4,  p.  77. 

"  Witnesses  are  divided  into  incompetent,  suspicious,  {yer- 
daclitig^  and  sufficient,  (vollgultig.')  Children  under  the 
age  of  eight  years,  those  who  have  accepted  any  reward  or 
promise  for  their  evidence,  those  who  have  an  immediate  and 
certain  interest  in  the  success  or  failure  of  the  prosecution, 
those  who  have  been  accused  of  calumny,  of  giving  false 
information,  or  of  perjury,  and  have  been  convicted  or  not 
fully  acquitted,  and  those  who,  in  any  material  part  of  their 
evidence,  have  been  guilty  of  falsehood  or  of  inconsistency, 
are  all  incomijetent  witnesses.  Their  evidence  is  to  be 
rejected  in  toto.  Persons  under  the  age  of  eighteen,  the 
injured  party,  informers,  (unless  o&cially  bound  to  inform,) 
accomplices,  persons  connected  with  the  party  for  whom  they 
depose,  by  blood,  by  marriage,  by  friendship,  by  office,  or  by 
dependence — persons  opposed  to  the  party  against  whom 
they  depose,  by  strife  or  by  hatred,  those  who  may  obtain  by 
the  result  of  the  inquiry  any  remote  or  contingent  benefit, 
persons  of  suspicious  character,  persons  unknown  to  the 
court,  and  those  whose  manner  gives  the  appearance  of  in- 
sincerity or  of  partiality — are  all  suspicious  witnesses. 

"The  testimony  of  two  sufficient  witnesses,  stating  not 
mere  inferences,  but  facts  which  they  have  perceived  with 
their  own  senses,  amounts  to  proof  That  of  one  sufficient 
witness  amounts  to  half-proof. 


APPENDIX  [ddd].  333 

"Two  suspicious  witnesses,  whose  testimony  ao-rees,  are 
equal  to  one  sufficient  witness..  Therefore  the  "testimony 
of  two  suspicious  witnesses  agreeing  with  that  of  one  suffi- 
cient witness,  or  the  testimony  of  four  suspicious  witnesses 
by  themselves,  amounts  to  proof 

"  When  the  evidence  on  each  side,  taken  joer  se,  amounts 
to  proof,  the  decision  is  to  be  in  favor  of  the  accused.     In 
other  cases,  contradictory  testimonies  neutralize  one  another. 
So  that  if  there  be  two  sufficient  witnesses  on  one  side,  and 
two  suspicious  witnesses  on  the  other,  it  is  as  if  there  were 
a  single    sufficient  witness,  and   consequently  a   half-proof. 
But  if  the  number  of  sufficient  witnesses  had  been  three,  it 
would  have  amounted  to  proof— the  two  suspicious  witnesses 
merely  neutralizing  the  evidence  of  one  of  the  three  suffi- 
cient witnesses,  and  therefore  still  leaving  the  fact  proved. 
So  the  testimony  of  seven  suspicious  witnesses,  opposed  only 
by  three  similar  witnesses,  amounts  to  proof— that  of  six  to 
half-proof     Circumstantial  evidence  amounts  to  proof  when 
each  fact  of  which  it  consists  is  fully  proved,  (that  is  to  say, 
by  two  sufficient  witnesses,  or  by  one  such  witness  and  two 
suspicious  ones,  or  by  four  suspicious  ones,)  and  when  these 
facts  cannot  be  rationally  accounted  for  on  any  hypothesis  ex- 
cept the  prisoner's  guih.*     If  any  other  is  possible,  thou-h 
It  may  be  improbable,  or  if  the  facts  are  imperfectly  prove'd, 
the  circumstantial  evidence  is  imperfect.-f     The  Code  does 
not  state  with  its  usual  arithmetical  preciseness  the  grada- 
tions  in    value    of   imperfect    circumstantial    evidenced      It 
seems,  however,  that  it  may  amount  to  half-proof;  for  (by 
Art   324)  if  it  coalesce  with  direct  evidence  amounting  to 
half-proof,  the  mixture  amounts  to  whole  proof.     The  most 
complete  circumstantial  evidence,  however,  does  not  authorize 
the  infliction  of  death. J 

"  Let  us  now  see  how  such  rules  may  work.  A  man  meets 
two  others  in  a  path  through  a  wood.  Soon  after  he  has 
passed  and  lost  sight  of  them,  he  hears  screams.  He  turns 
back  and  finds  one  of  them  lying  senseless  on  the  ground,  and 
sees  the  other  running  away.  He  overtakes  him,  and  finds 
on  him  the  purse  and  watch  of  the  wounded  man,  who,  by 
this  time,  is  dead.     The  murderer  and  robber,  unless  he  will 

*  Art.  328.  t  Art.  327.  J  Art.  330. 


384  •         APPENDIX  [ddd]. 

confess,  must  escape.  In  the  first  place,  the  evidence  is  only 
circumstantial — no  one  saw  him  give  the  fatal  blow;  and 
secondly,  as  there  is  only  one  witness,  there  is  only  a  half- 
proof  even  of  the  circumstances  to  which  the  witness  deposes. 
We  will  suppose,  however,  that  the  wounded  man  revives, 
and  deposes  that  the  prisoner  demanded  his  watch  and  purse, 
and  on  his  refusal  struck  him  down,  and  took  them.  Even 
then  the  prisoner,  unless,  we  repeat  it,  he  will  confess,  cannot 
be  convicted  even  of  the  robbery.  For  the  only  direct  evi- 
dence is  that  of  the  injured  person,  and  he  is,  as  we  have 
seen,  a  suspicious  witness ;  his  testimony,  therefore,  amounts 
to  only  half  of  a  half-proof,  and,  as  that  of  the  other  witness 
amounts  to  only  a  half-proof,  the  prisoner  must  be  discharged 
for  defect  of  evidence.  Well  might  Feuerbach  say,  that  un- 
less a  man  choose  to  perpetrate  his  crimes  in  public,  or  to 
confess  them,  he  need  not  fear  a  conviction.^^ — Edinburgh 
Review,  Oct.,  1845,  pp.  328-330. 

Another  country  might  have  been  mentioned,  in  which, 
though  great  stress  is  laid  by  many  persons  on  the  utility  of 
oaths,  and  much  outcry  is  raised  at  any  proposal  for  doing 
away  with  the  numerous  oaths  of  office,  etc.,  that  are  re- 
quired, as  if  the  safety  of  the  community  depended  on  these, 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  with  strange  inconsistency,  it  is  taken 
for  granted  that  every  individual,  without  exception,  is,  not 
merely  likely,  but  certain  to  be  ready  to  perjure  himself  for 
the  value  of  a  penny :  the  evidence  of  any  one  in  a  cause  in 
which  he  has  an  interest,  however  small,  being  not  only  re- 
garded with  suspicion,  but  totally  rejected  and  disallowed. 

As  iov  promissory  oaths  of  office,  it  would  have  been  beside 
the  purpose  of  this  treatise  to  enter  on  the  question  how  far 
any  one  is  likely  to  be  induced  to  do  his  duty,  by  swearing  to 
do  so,  who  would  not  have  been  induced  by  a  sense  of  duty 
itself:  how  far,  e.  g.,  any  king  is  likely  to  have  been  induced 
by  the  oath  taken  at  his  coronation  (which,  be  it  remem- 
bered, he  can  defer,  or  wholly  omit,  at  his  own  pleasure)  to 
be  more  attentive  to  his  duties  as  a  sovereign  than  he  felt 
bound  to  be  before. 

The  objections  which  have  been  brought  against  oaths  of 

-this  class,  lie  against  them,  in  fact,  rather  as  promises,  than 

simply  as  oaths.     A  man  is   then  only,  strictly  speaking, 

bound   hy  (i.   e.,  in   consequence  of)  a  promise,  when  he 


APPENDIX    [DDD].  '  o85 

engages  to  do  something  which  he  was  7iot  bound  to  pre- 
viously;  as,  to  deliver  such  and  such  articles  of  merchandise 
at  a  stipulated  price,  to  vote  for  a  certain  candidate,  etc. 
But  any  promise  to  fulfil  a  'previous  obligation  should  be 
understood  (and  it  would  be  much  better  that  it  should  be 
so  expressed)  as  merely  a  declaration  that  he  owns  and  is 
sensible  of  that  obligation ;  which  he  does  not — as  in  the 
other  case — then  take  upon  him.  But  oaths  of  office  are 
often  made  to  supply  topics  for  rhetorical  purposes,  in  the 
worst  sense  of  the  word.  A  man  will  try  to  convince  others, 
and  often  himself  also,  that  the  course  he  prefers  is  one  to 
which  he  is  bound  by  oath ;  and  will  maintain  or  insinuate 
that  all  who  do  not  agree  with  him  are  perjured. 

In  reference  to  this  point  I  subjoin  a  passage  from  a 
Charge  containing  the  substance  of  a  speech  in  the  House 
of  Lords  on  the  question  of  the  increased  grant  to  Maynooth 
College : 

"The  solemn  vow  by  which  we  are  bound  to  ^banish  and 
drive  out  all  erroneous  and  strange  doctrines,  contrary  to 
Grod's  word,'  has  been  again  and  again  brought  forward  on 
this  and  several  other  analogous  occasions;  and  it  has  been 
either  distinctly  asserted,  or  by  implication  insinuated,  that 
any  one  who  has  taken  that  vow,  cannot,  without  a  violation 
of  it,  support  such  a  measure  as  the  one  lately  passed.  For 
there  are  some,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  among  the  loudest  cen- 
surers  of  Romish  claims  to  infallibility,  who  yet  have  such 
full  confidence  in  their  own  infallibility,  as  to  make  no  scruple 
of  imputing  breach  of  a  vow  to  any  one  who  does  not  inter- 
pret that  vow  in  the  same  sense  as  themselves.  And  since 
such  imputations  are,  I  suppose,  listened  to  by  some  persons, 
(as  may  be  inferred  from  their  being  on  so  many  occasions 
and  so  pertinaciously  urged,)  I  feel  bound  to  protest  against 
them,  in  behalf  not  only  of  myself  but  also  of  many  of  my 
brother-clergy  who  think  with  me  on  these  points,  and 
among  whom  are  to  be  found  some  of  the  most  truly  pious 
and  able,  and  unostentatiously  zealous  and  useful  Christian 
ministers. 

"  I  am  not,  I  trust,  more  forgetful  of  the  vows  I  have 

made  than  those  whose  interpretation  of  them  is  utterly  at 

variance  with  mine.     But  from  their  interpretation  would 

follow  consequences  from  which  not  only  I,  but  probably 

13 


386  'APPENDIX   [ddd]. 

most  of  themselves  also  would  recoil.  We  have  vowed  not 
merely  not  to  promote  and  encourage,  but  to  'banish  and 
drive  out  erroneous  doctrines/  This  vow,  therefore,  cannot, 
at  any  rate,  be  fulfilled  by  simply  voting  against  a  pecuniary 
grant.  We  are  actively  to  'drive  out  doctrines  contrary  to 
God's  word.'  But  whence  are  we  to  drive  them  out  ?  and  by 
what  means  ?  Is  it  by  penal  laws,  by  secular  coercion,  by 
the  point  of  the  bayonet,  that  we  are  to  drive  out  religious 
error  ?  And  again,  is  it  from  these  islands — from  the  soil 
of  the  British  em'pire — that  we  are  bound  to  banish  false 
doctrines  ?  This  can  only  be  effectually  done  by  banishing 
the  professors  of  them;  as  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  expelled 
from  Spain  the  Moors  and  Jews.  And  are  these  the  mea- 
sures which  Christian  bishops  and  oilier  clergy  are  bound  to 
recommend,  and  the  Legislature  to  adopt  ? 

"We  have  heard  of  late  much  complaint  of  the  unscriptural 
and  immoral,  and  indeed  seditious  and  dangerous  doctrines 
taught  at  Koman  Catholic  seminaries ;  and  we  have  been 
called  upon,  on  that  ground,  by  virtue  of  our  vows,  to — vote 
against  an  increased  grant  to  such  seminaries  !  Manifestly, 
if  the  statements  be  admitted  and  the  reasoning  assented  to, 
we  must  not  stop  there.  All  allowances  to  Roman  Catholic 
chaplains  of  regiments,  jails,  and  workhouses,  must  be  stopped; 
as  well  as  the  grants  and  endowments  enjoyed  by  Roman 
Catholic  ministers  in  the  colonies  and  dependencies.  Nor 
can  we  consistently  stop  at  the  withdrawing  of  all  grants  to 
Roman  Catholic  seminaries :  we  must  call  for  the  total  siip- 
pression  of  the  seminaries.  Nor  will  even  this  be  enough  : 
we  must  go  on  to  prohibit  the  teaching,  in  any  way,  or  in 
any  place,  at  home  or  abroad,*  of  the  obnoxious  doctrines  : 
in  short,  we  must  urge  the  total  suppression  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion,  by  the  forcible  expulsion  of  all  its  adherents. 

"If  such  were  the  vow  proposed  to  me,  sooner  than  fulfil 
or  undertake  so  unchristian  an  engagement,  I  would  resign 
my  office — I  would  abandon  my  profession — I  would  abjure 
the  Church  that  imposed  such  vows.  But  I  have  always 
considered  the  vows  I  have  taken  as  binding  me — or  rather 
as  reminding  me  of  the  duty — to  drive  out,  as  far  as  lies  in 
me,  erroneous  doctrines  from  my  oivn  Church,  and  especially 

*  See  Speech  of  the  Lord  Bishop  of  St.  David's. 


APPENDIX   [ddd].  387 

from  that  portion  of  it  committed  to  my  own  immediate 
superintendence. 

"By  instruction,  by . admonition  and  remonstrance,  and 
finally  by  ecclesiastical  censure,  when  applicable  and  neces- 
sary, a  bishop  is  bound  to  endeavor  to  drive  away  from  among 
those  of  his  own  communion  'all  strange  doctrines  contrary 
to  God's  word.'  Over  those  of  another  communion  I  claim 
no  control.  But  I  have  expressed,  openly,  in  many  works 
which  are  before  the  public,  my  utter  disapprobation  of  what 
appear  to  me  erroneous  doctrines,  and  have  given  my  reasons 
for  thinking  them  such ;  without,  indeed,  any  polemical 
bitterness,  but  without  any  suppression,  through  fear  of  man's 
censure,  of  what  I  hold  to  be  God's  truth  !  endeavoring,  ac- 
cording to  the  apostolic  precepts,  to  be  'gentle  unto  all  men, 
in  meekness  instructing  them  that  oppose  themselves/  and 
*  speaking  the  truth  in  love.' 

"  But  though  I  presume  not  to  pass  any  authoritative  cen- 
sure on  the  members  of  other  communions,  I  have  exerted 
myself,  I  think  I  may  say,  as  zealously  as  any  of  my  brethren, 
to  banish  strange  doctrines  from  our  own  communion,  and  to 
counteract  the  disingenuous  procedure  of  those  who  hold  the 
doctrines  of  one  Church  and  the  emoluments  of  another. 

''It  is  thus  that  I  have  always  interpreted  the  vows  alluded 
to.  But  were  the  other  interpretation  of  them  to  be  adopted, 
no  man  of  logical  mind  could  stop  short  of  consequences 
which  most,  I  believe  and  trust,  of  those  who  urge  such  argu- 
ments, would  themselves  shrink  from." 

The  following  extract  from  a  number  (published  about  the 
same  time)  of  a  clever  periodical,  contains  some  just  remarks 
on  some  of  the  points  above  noticed  : 

"Among  other  apparitions  of  sophisms  supposed  defunct, 
the  Coronation-oath  argument  has  been  resuscitated  in  the 
course  of  the  Maynooth  debate,  and  even  in  the  solemn  shape 
of  a  protest  in  the  House  of  Lords !  Reasonable  men  in- 
terpret the  Coronation-oath  as  binding  the  king  not  to  en- 
croach on  the  laics  of  his  prerogative.  The  opponents  of  the 
increased  allowance  to  Maynooth  view  it  as  binding  him  to 
refuse  his  assent  t6  certain  laws  :  they  deem  the  oath  a  means 
of  restricting  the  royal  prerogative  and  diminishing  the  liberty 
of  the  subject  at  the  same  time.  This  view  is  the  standing 
consolation  of  politicians  beaten  in  argument :  they  seek  to 


388  APPENDIX   [ddd], 

persuade  tliemselves,  tliat  though  the  king  be  convinced,  and 
the  people  be  convinced,  yet  neither  one  nor  other,  nor  both 
together,  can  act  upon  their  convictions  notwithstanding. 

''The  consolation,  it  is  true,  does  not  last  long;  for  the 
impossibility  is  always  achieved.  The  Coronation-oath,  in 
their  acceptation  of  it,  may  be  compared  to  the  mirage  of  the 
desert.  The  mirage  looks  like  a  vast  lake,  in  which  the 
traveller  will  be  drowned  if  he  advances ;  but  when  he  does 
advance  to  the  place  of  the  supposed  water,  he  finds  dry  land 
and  the  lake  still  before  him;  which  again  and  again  recedes 
as  he  marches  on.  George  the  Third  took  the  Coronation- 
oath,  which  some  maintain  binds  the  king  to  allow  of  no 
change  in  what  pertains  to  religion;  he  found  no  perjury  in 
relaxing  the  penal  laws,  and  granting  the  elective  franchise 
to  Roman  Catholics;  but  he  stuck  at  Emancipation — that 
was  his  'lake.'  George  the  Fourth,  after  much  apparent 
fear  of  drowning  in  his  father's  lake,  stepped  on  as  far  as 
Emancipation,  with  dry  clothes ;  there  he  stopped.  William 
the  Fourth  was  threatened  with  being  overwhelmed  in  the 
sea  of  perjury,  and  losing  his  crown,  Pharaoh-like,  in  the 
waves,  if  he  assented  to  the  Church  Temporalities  Act :  he 
reached  this  point,  however,  and  the  shore;  the  receding 
mirage  being  yet  at  some  distance  before  him.  And  now  the 
queen  is  to  be  over  head  and  ears  in  perjury,  and  lose  her 
crown,  for  assenting  to  the  Maynooth  grant ;  and  she  will  be 
threatened  with  the  like  again  and  again,  for  making  still 
further  advances  in  the  same  direction.  When  shall  we  get 
over  this  low  arid  region  of  prejudiced  sophistry,  in  which 
the  mirage  is  perennial  ? 

"If  there  were  a  shadow  of  reason  in  the  allegation  that 
the  queen  has  forfeited  the  crown  by  recognizing  the  Roman 
Catholics,  Ireland  would  have  been  forfeited,  at  the  Reforma- 
tion ;  since  the  king  of  England  for  a  long  time  claimed  that 
country  as  a  gift  from  the  pope,  on  the  condition  of  bringing 
it  into  subjection  to  him.  And  the  case  of  the  pope  was  even 
stronger.  Parliament  may  interpret  or  relax  conditions  im- 
posed by  parliament :  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  parliament 
would  bind  a  king  to  refuse  his  assent  to  a  bill  passed  through 
parliament.  But  the  pope  and  the  Irish  nation  did  not  give 
their  sanction  to  the  Reformation ;  and  therefore,  on  this 
hypothesis,  may  fairly  demand  the  forfeit. 


APPENDIX    [e].  389 

*^  If  the  interpretation  of  the  Coronation-oath,  put  forth  by 
some  with  such  apparent  seriousness,  should  ever  prevail, 
there  would  still  be  one  resource  left  for  English  kings  wishing 
to  deal  justly  by  their  subjects.  From  this  interpretation  it 
follows  that  we  have  in  the  realm  two  kinds  of  regal  govern- 
ment— that  of  an  uncrowned  and  that  of  a  crowned  king. 
The  latter  is  bound  to  certain  things  which  the  former  is 
not.  Every  king  has  at  the  outset  his  choice  which  of  these 
two  he  will  be ;  for  he  is  king  at  once ;  and  may  reign  as 
long  as  he  likes  without  being  crowned,  or  may  decline  it 
altogether/^ 

[E.]    Part  I.,  Chai-).  ii.,  §  7,  p.  92. 

"Analogy  does  not  mean  the  similarity  of  two  things,  but 
the  similarity  or  sameness  of  two  relations.  There  must  be 
more  than  two  things  to  give  rise  to  two  relations :  there 
must  be  at  least  three ;  and  in  most  cases  there  are  four. 
Thus  A  may  be  like  B,  but  there  is  no  analog?/  between  A 
and  B  :  it  is  an  abuse  of  the  word  to  speak  so,  and  it  leads  to 
much  confusion  of  thought.  If  A  has  the  same  relation  to 
B  which  C  has  to  D,  then  there  is  an  analogy.  If  the  first 
relation  be  well  known,  it  may  serve  to  explain  the  second, 
which  is  less  known ;  and  the  transfer  of  name  from  one  of 
the  terms  in  the  relation  best  known  to  its  corresponding 
term  in  the  other,  causes  no  confusion,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
tends  to  remind  us  of  the  similarity  that  exists  in  these  rela- 
tions ;  and  so  assists  the  mind  instead  of  misleading  it. 

"In  this  manner,  things  most  unlike  and  discordant  in 
their  nature  may  be  strictly  analogous  to  one  another.  Thus 
a  certain  proposition  may  be  called  the  basis  of  a  system. 
The  proposition  is  to  the  system  what  the  basis  is  to  a  building : 
it  serves  a  similar  office  and  purpose ;  and  this  last  relation 
being  well  known,  is  of  use  to  illustrate  the  other  which  was 
less  known.  E.  g. :  The  system  rests  upon  it;  it  is  useless  to 
proceed  with  the  argument  till  this  is  well  established ;  if 
this  were  removed,  the  system  must  fall.  The  only  condi- 
tions requisite  in  the  use  of  this  kind  of  analogy  are,  first, 
not  to  proceed  to  a  comparison  of  the  corresponding  terms  as 
they  are  intrinsically  in  themselves  or  in  their  own  nature, 
but  merely  as  they  are  in  relation  to  the  other  terms  respect- 


390  APPENDIX    [e]. 

ively ;  and,  secondly,  not  to  presume  that  because  the  re- 
lation is  the  same  or  similar  in  one  or  two  points,  therefore  it 
is  the  same  or  similar  in  all. 

''The  FIRST  of  these  errors  cannot  be  committed  in  the  in- 
stance before  us,  because  the  two  things  are  of  such  diiferent 
nature  that  they  have  no  one  point  of  resemblance.  But 
when  the  first  and  the  third  term  are  not  only  corresponding 
in  relation,  but  chance  also  to  be  of  a  kindred  nature,  or 
when,  from  the  circumstance  of  one  being  visible,  and  the 
other  invisible,  their  discrepancies  do  not  strike  us,  it  often 
happens  that  a  comparison  is  pursued  between  the  things 
themselves  ;  and  this  is  one  cause  of  the  promiscuous  use  of 
the  terms  similitude  and  analogy.  As,  for  example,  when 
Locke,  having  once  established  the  comparison,  proceeds  to 
talk  of  ideas  as  if  they  were  really  images  in  the  mind,  or 
traces  in  the  brain. 

"It  is  from  observing  this  tendency  in  men  to  regard  the 
metaphorical  or  analogous  name  as  bringing  along  with  it 
something  of  the  nature  of  the  thing  it  originally  signified, 
that  Mr.  Stewart  is  led  to  make  the  remark,  not  less  original 
than  just,  that  it  is  well  for  the  understanding,  though  it 
may  be  a  loss  to  the  fancy,  when  a  metaphorical  word  has 
lost  its  pedigree )  that*  is,  when  it  no  longer  excites  the 
primary  idea  denoted-  by  it,  and  is  reduced  by  custom  to  a 
plain  and  direct  appellation  in  its  secondary  sense.  He  sug- 
gests alsof  with  equal  ingenuity,  in  cases  where  words  have 
not  yet  been  worn  down  to  this  use,  the  expedient  of  varying 
our  metaphor  when  speaking  of  the  same  subject,  as  a  pre- 
servative against  this  dangerous  and  encroaching  error.  Of 
the  utility  of  this  practice,  I  have  no  doubt ;  and  I  think  it 
may  be  regarded  as  an  advantage  of  the  same  kind,  that  the 
parables  of  the  New  Testament  are  drawn  from  such  a  great 

*  Philosophical  Essays,  Ess.  v.,  chap.  3. 

f  Ibid.  In  the  analysis  here  given  of  analogy,  it  will  be  perceived, 
by  those  who  are  conversant  with  Mr.  Stewart's  writings,  that  I  have 
ventured  to  depart  widely  from  his  use  of  the  word.  Indeed,  M. 
Prevost's  etymology,  as  given  in  a  passage  quoted  with  approbation 
by  Mr.  Stewart,  vol.  ii.,  chap,  iv.,  §  4,  appears  to  me  quite  erroneous. 
*'Le  mot  Analogie,  dans  Vorigine,  n'exprime  que  la  ressemblance." 
The  reverse  of  which  I  take  to  be  the  fact.  But  this  is  not  the  place 
for  entering  further  into  the  discussion. 


APPENDIX    [e].  391 

diversity  of  objects,  as  to  check  the  propensity  in  man,  es- 
pecially in  matters  of  religion,  to  attach  some  mystical  char- 
acter to  the  images  so  employed,  and  to  look  upon  them  as 
emblems  possessing  an  intrinsic  virtue,  or  at  least  a  secret 
affinity  with  those  spiritual  truths,  to  the  illustration  of  which 
they  are  made  subservient. 

*'  When  the  points  in  which  the  similarity  of  relation  holds 
are  of  secondary  importance — when,  instead  of  being  essen- 
tial and  characteristic,  they  are  slight  and  superficial — the 
analogy  is  often  called  a  metaphor,  and  often  a  similitude,  as 
being  addressed  rather  to  the  fancy  than  to  the  judgment, 
and  intended  rather  to  adorn  and  illustrate  than  to  explain. 
But  it  would  perhaps  be  better  to  avoid  the  name  simUitude. 
in  these  cases,  and  to  regard  them  as  being,  what  they- really 
are,  analogies,  although  subsisting  in  points  of  inferior  mo- 
ment. 

"  Thus  when  the  swallow  is  called  the  herald  of  summer, 
or  a  ship  is  said  to  plough  the  waves,  it  is  easy  to  resolve  the 
phrase  into  the  form  of  analogy  or  proportion :  the  swallow 
is  to  the  summer  what  the  herald  is  to  his  prince — he  announces 
his  approach.  So  the  action  of  a  ship  is  to  the  sea  what  the 
action  of  a  plough  is  to  the  land.  But  because  in  these  cases 
the  relation  is  fanciful  rather  than  real — that  is,  it  consists, 
not  in  essential  points,  but  in  mere  circumstances  of  inferior 
importance — we  leave  such  things  to  the  province  of  taste  or 
amusement,  and  no  considerate  man  ever  attempts  to  reason 
from  them. 

<'  ^  I  am  not  of  the  mind  of  those  speculators,'  said  Mr. 
Burke,  '  who  seem  assured  that  all  States  have  the  same 
period  of  infancy,  manhood,  and  decrepitude,  that  are  found 
in  individuals.  Parallels  of  this  sort  rather  furnish  simili- 
tudes to  illustrate  or  to  adorn,  than  supply  analogies  from 
whence  to  reason.  The  objects  which  are  attempted  to  be 
forced  into  an  analogy  are  not  found  in  the  same  classes  of 
existence.  Individuals  are  physical  beings — commonwealths 
are  not  physical  but  moral  essences.'* 

^^A  remarkable  example  of  this  kind  is  that,  argument  of 
Toplady  against  free-will,  who,  after  quoting  the  text.  Ye  also 
as  lively  stones  are  built  up  a  sjoiritual  ]wuse{\  triumphantly 


*  Letters  on  a  Regicide  Peace,  p.  4.  f  1  Pet.  ii.  5. 


392  APPENDIX    [e]. 

exclaims,  ^  Tliis  is  giving  free-will  a  stab  under  the  fifth  rib ; 
for  can  stones  hew  themselves,  and  build  themselves  in  a 
regular  house  ?'* 

"  Even  when  we  attribute  to  inanimate  things  the  qualities 
of  animals,  the  same  analysis  may  be  adopted  as  before. 
Thus  the  rage  of  the  sea  denotes  a  similarity  of  effect  to  the 
effect  of  rage  in  animals.  This  is  even  more  the  work  of 
fancy  than  the  example  before  given )  for  in  reducing  it  to 
the  form  of  a  proportion,  one  term  is  wholly  supplied  by  the 
imagination.  We  do  not  really  believe  there  is  a  principle 
in  the  sea  producing  these  effects,  answering  to  rage  in  ani- 
mals, but  the  imagination  suggests  such  a  principle,  and 
transfers  the  name  of  rage  to  it. 

''In  those  cases  where  the  analogy  is  traced  between 
things  perfectly  heterogeiieoiis,  there  is  little  danger  of  con- 
founding the  idea  with  that  of  similitude.  But  when  the 
subjects  we  are  comparing  are  of  a  kindred  nature,  so  that 
the  things  spoken  of  not  only  stand  in  the  same  relation,  but 
also  bear  a  close  resemblance  to  each  other,  then  it  is  we  are 
most  apt  to  confound  them  together,  and  to  substitute  re- 
semblance for  analogy.  Thus  because  the  heart  or  the  tooth 
of  an  animal  not  only  serves  the  same  office  to  the  animal  that 
the  heart  or  the  tooth  of  a  man  does  to  him,  but  is  also  an 
object  very  nearly  resembling  it  in  its  structure  and  outward 
appearance,  we  are  apt  to  imagine  that  the  same  name  is 
given  to  it  solely  on  this  last  account.  But  if  we  pursue  the 
inquiry  throughout  the  animal  creation,  we  shall  find  that  the 
form  of  the  corresponding  parts  is  infinitely  varied,  although 
the  analogy  remains  the  same ;  till  at  length  we  arrive  at 
such  diversities,  that  it  is  only  persons  conversant  with  com- 
parative anatomy  who  can  readily  detect  the  analogy.  And 
long  before  the  difference  has  reached  this  length  in  popular 
discourse,  the  analogical  name  is  dropped,  and  the  scientific 
use  of  it  in  such  cases  sounds  pedantic  to  unlearned  ears. 
Thus  the  beak  of  a  bird  answers  to  the  tooth  of  a  man,  and 
the  shell  of  a  lobster  to  the  bones  of  other  animals.  If  the 
use  and  office  remain  the  same,  no  diversity  of  form  impairs 
the  analogy ;  but  we  ought  from  such  examples  to  learn,  even 

*  Christian  and  Philosophical  Necessity  Asserted,  p.  56.  See 
1  Cor.  xiv.  4. 


APPENDIX    [e].  ^  393 

when  similitude  of  form  does  exist,  not  to  regard  it  as  the 
true  ground  of  the  comparison  we  make,  and  of  our  affixing 
the  same  name. 

"  Thus  too  when  we  speak  of  qualities  of  things  which  are 
not  cognizable  by  our  senses  except  in  their  effects,  we  bestow 
the  same  name  on  account  of  a  real  or  supposed  analogy,  not 
on  account  of  any  similarity  in  i\\Q  qualities  themselves, 
which  may  or  may  not  exist,  according  as  the  things  we  sjjeak 
of  are  more  or  less  of  a  kindred  nature.  Sagacity,  courage, 
fidelity,  love,  jealousy,  revenge,  are  all  predicated  of  brute 
animals  not  less  than  of  man,  although  they  are  not  things 
or  existences  themselves,  but  certain  attributes  or  affections 
in  them,  exhibiting  symptoms  and  producing  effects  corre- 
sponding with  the  symptoms  and  effects  attendant  upon  those 
qualities  in  ourselves.  In  these  instances  still  more  than  in 
the  former,  we  are  prone  to  confound  analogy  with  resem- 
blance; because  as  these  things  have  no  form  or  existence  of 
their  own — as  the  whole  essence  of  them  consists  in  their 
relation  to  something  else — if  the  relations  be  alike,  the 
things  arc  necessarily  alike,  and  we  naturally  slide  into  that 
form  of  speaking  which  makes  no  distinction  between  analogy 
and  resemblance )  but  even  then  we  regard  the  qualities  as 
identical,  only  in  proportion  as  the  nature  of  the  respective 
subjects  to  which  they  belong  may  be  regarded  as  the  same. 

"  The  SECOND  error  above  noticed  as  carefully  to  be  avoided 
in  the  use  of  analogy  is,  when  we  do  not  indeed  treat Uhe 
corresponding  terms  as  resembling  one  another  in  their  own 
nature,  but  when  we  presume  that  a  similarity  of  relation 
subsists  in  other  points  besides  those  which  are  the  founda- 
tion of  the  analogy. 

^'  When  the  analogy  consists  in  slight  or  superficial  cir- 
cumstances, still  more  when  it  is  fanciful  only,  no  attempt 
whatever  should  be  made  to  reason  from  it;  as  was  exempli- 
fied in  the  passage  produced  from  Burke's  writings ;  but  even 
when  the  analogy  is  solid  and  well  founded  we  are  liable  to 
fall  into  error,  if  we  suppose  it  to  extend  farther  than  it 
really  does.  Errors  of  this  nature  are  often  committed  by 
men  of  lively  fancies  or  of  ardent  minds,  and  they  are  the 
more  seducing  because  they  set  out  not  only  with  a  show  of 
reason,  but  with  reason  and  truth  actually  on  their  side. 

^^  Tlius  because  a  just  analogy  has  been  discerned  between 


394  '         APPENDIX    [f]. 

the  metropolis  of  a  country  and  the  heart  in  the  animal  body, 
it  has  been  sometimes  contended  that  its  increased  size  is  a 
disease — that  it  may  impede  some  of  its  most  important  func- 
tions, or  even  be  the  means  of  its  dissolution. 

'^Another  frequent  example  of  this  second  error  is  found 
in  the  use  of  the  same  titles  of  office  or  dignity  in  different 
nations  or  in  distant  times.  Although  the  relation  denoted 
by  them  be  the  same  in  one  or  in  several  important  particu- 
lars, yet  it  scarcely  ever  holds  throughout  \  and  the  most 
false  notions  are  in  consequence  entertained  by  people  of  the 
nature  of  these  corresponding  offices  in  every  country  but 
their  own.  We  have  known  what  mischief  has  been  pro- 
duced by  the  adoption  of  the  phrase,  '  servant  of  the  people,' 
although  it  cannot  be  denied  that  in  some  points  the  duty  of 
the  magistrate  is  the  same  as  the  duty  of  a  servant* — that 
his  time,  for  instance,  his  thoughts,  his  abilities,  should  be 
devoted  to  the  benefit  of  the  people ;  and  again,  on  the  other 
hand,  because  the  duty  of  a  subject  towards  his  sovereign 
coincides  in  many  respects  with  the  duty  of  a  child  towards 
his  parent,  some  speculative  writers  have  hastily  concluded 
that  the  institution  of  monarchy  is  equally  founded  in  nature, 
and  possesses  the  same  inherent  authority  with  the  parental." — 
Copleston's  Four  Discourses  on  the  Doctrines  of  Necessity 
and  Predestination  J  note  to  Disc.  III.,  pp.  122-130. 

[F.]    Part  I.,  Chap,  iii.,  §  3,^9.  129. 
"  No  man  is  so  obstinate  an  admirer  of  the  old  times,  as  to 


*  "  The  '  servants'  that  we  read  of  in  the  Bible,  and  in  other  trans- 
lations of  ancient  books,  are  so  called  by  analogy  to  servants  among 
us;  and  that  analogy  consists  in  the  offices  which  a  'servant'  per- 
forms, in  waiting  on  his  master,  and  doing  his  bidding.  It  is  in  this 
respect  that  the  one  description  of  '  servant'  corresponds  ["  answers"] 
to  the  other.  And  hence  some  persons  have  been  led  to  apply  all 
that  is  said  in  Scripture  respecting  master  and  servants,  to  these 
times  and  this  country ;  forgetting  that  the  analogy  is  not  complete, 
and  extends  no  farther  than  the  point  above  mentioned.  For  the 
ancient  '  servants'  (except  when  expressly  spoken  of  as  Jdred  ser- 
vants) were  slaves ;  a  part  of  the  master's  possessions." 

For  a  remarkable  instance  of  the  kind  of  mistake  the  author  is 
speaking  of,  see  Appendix  to  Logic,  Art.  "God." 


APPENDIX    [f].  395 

deny  that  medicine,  surgery,  botany,  chemistry,  engineering, 
navigation,  are  better  understood  now  than  in  any  former 
age.  AVe  conceive  that  it  is  the  same  with  political  science. 
Like  those  other  sciences  which  we  have  mentioned,  it  has 
always  been  working  itself  clearer  and  clearer,  and  depositing 
impurity  after  impurity.  There  was  a  time  when  the  most 
powerful  of  human  intellects  were  deluded  by  the  gibberish 
of  the  astrologer  and  the  alchymist;  and  just  so  there  was  a 
time  when  the  most  enlightened  and  virtuous  statesmen 
thought  it  the  first  duty  of  a  government  to  persecute  here- 
tics, to  found  monasteries,  to  make  war  on  Saracens.  But 
time  advances,  facts  accumulate,  doubts  arise.  Faint  glimpses 
of  truth  begin  to  appear,  and  shine  more  and  more  unto  the 
perfect  day.  The  highest  intellects,  like  the  tops  of  moun- 
tains, are  the  first  to  catch  and  to  reflect  the  dawn.  They 
are  bright  while  the  level  below  is  still  in  darkness.  But 
soon  the  light,  which  at  first  illuminated  only  the  loftiest 
eminences,  descends  on  the  plain,  and  penetrates  to  the 
deepest  valley.  First  come  hints,  then  fragments  of  systems, 
then  defective  systems,  then  complete  and  harmonious  systems. 
The  sound  opinion,  held  for  a  time  by  one  bold  speculator,  be- 
comes the  opinion  of  a  small  minority,  of  a  strong  minority, 
of  a  majority — of  mankind.  Thus,  the  great  progress  goes 
on,  till  schoolboys  laugh  at  the  jargon  which  imposed  on 
Bacon — till  country  rectors  condemn  the  illiberality  and  in- 
tolerance" of  Sir  Thomas  More.'' — Edinhurgh  RevieiOj  July, 
1835,  p.  282. 

*'  We  have  said  that  the  history  of  England  is  the  history 
of  progress,  and,  when  we  take  a  comprehensive  view  of  it, 
it  is  so.  But  when  examined  in  small  separate  portions,  it 
may  with  more  propriety  be  called  a  history  of  actions  and 
reactions.  We  have  often  thought  that  the  motion  of  the 
public  mind  in  our  country  resembles  that  of  the  sea  when 
the  tide  is  rising.  Each  successive  wave  rushes  forward, 
breaks,  and  rolls  back  j  but  the  great  flood  is  steadily  coming 
in.  A  person  who  looked  on  the  waters  only  for  a  moment 
might  fancy  that  they  were  retiring,  or  that  they  obeyed  no 
fixed  law,  but  were  rushing  capriciously  to  and  fro.  But 
when  he  keeps  his  eye  on  them  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and 
sees  one  sea-mark  disappear  after  another,  it  is  impossible  for 
him  to  doubt  of  the  general  direction  in  which  the  ocean  is 


396  APPENDIX    [f]. 

moved.  Just  sucli  has  been  the  course  of  events  in  England. 
In  the  history  of  the  national  mind,  which  is,  in  truth,  the 
history  of  the  nation,  we  must  carefully  distinguish  that 
recoil  which  regularly  follows  every  advance  from  a  general 
ebb.  If  we  take  short  intervals — if  we  compare  1640  and 
1660,  1680  and  1685,  1708  and  1712,  1782  and  1794,  we 
find  a  retrogression.  But  if  we  take  centuries — if,  for  ex- 
ample, we  compare  1794  with  1660,  or  with  1685 — we  can- 
not doubt  in  which  direction  society  is  proceeding." — Edm- 
hurgh  Review,  July,  1839,  pp.  228,  229. 

This  last  passage  closely  resembles  the  following  one  in  the 
Lectures  on  Political  Economy : 

^^Another  point  which  is  attainable  is,  to  perceive,  amidst 
all  the  admixture  of  evil,  and  all  the  seeming  disorder  of 
conflicting  agencies,  a  general  tendency  nevertheless  towards 
the  accomplishment  of  wise  and  beneficent  designs. 

"As  in  contemplating  an  ebbing  tide,  we  are  sometimes  in 
doubt,  on  a  short  inspection,  whether  the  sea  is  really  reced' 
ing,  because  from  time  to  time  a  wave  will  dash  farther  up 
the  shore  than  those  which  had  preceded  it,  but  if  we  con- 
tinue our  observation  long  enough,  we  see  plainly  that  the 
boundary  of  the  land  is  on  the  whole  advancing;  so  here, 
by  extending  our  view  over  many  countries  and  through 
several  ages,  we  may  distinctly  perceive  the  tendencies  which 
would  have  escaped  a  more  confined  research." — Lecture  iv., 
p.  106. 

The  following,  from  the  Edinburgh  Review,'^  is  an  admir- 
"able  specimen  of  illustrative  argument : 

*'A  blade  which  is  designed  both  to  shave  and  to  carve 
will  certainly  not  shave  so  well  as  a  razor,  or  carve  so  well  as 
a  carving-knife.  An  academy  of  painting,  which  should  also 
be  a  bank,  would  in  all  probability  exhibit  very  bad  pictures 
and  discount  very  bad  bills.  A  gas  company,  which  should 
also  be  an  infant-school  society,  would,  we  apprehend,  light 
the  streets  ill,  and  teach  the  children  ill.  On  this  principle, 
we  think  that  government  should  be  organized  solely  with  a 
view  to  its  main  end ;  and  that  no  part  of  its  efficiency  for 
that  end  should  be  sacrificed  in  order  to  promote  any  other 
end,  however  excellent. 

*  No.  cxxxix.,  April,  1839. 


APPENDIX  [f].  397 

"  But  does  it  follow  from  hence  tliat  governments  ouglit 
never  to  promote  any  end  other  than  their  main  end  ?  In 
nowise.  Though  it  is  desirable  that  every  institution  should 
have  a  main  end,  and  should  be  so  formed  as  to  be  in  the 
highest  degree  efficient  for  that  main  end;  yet  if,  without 
any  sacrifice  of  its  efficiency  for  that  end,  it  can  promote  any 
other  good  end,  it  ought  to  do  so.  Thus,  the  end  for  which 
a  hospital  is  built  is  the  relief  of  the  sick,  not  the  beautify- 
ing of  the  street.  To  sacrifice  the  health  of  the  sick  to  splen- 
dor of  architectural  efi'ect — to  place  the  building  in  a  bad  air 
only  that  it  may  present  a  more  commanding  front  to  a  great 
public  place — to  make  the  wards  hotter  or  cooler  than  they 
ought  to  be,  in  order  that  the  columns  and  windows  of  the 
exterior  may  please  the  passers-by,  would  be  monstrous. 
But  if,  without  any  sacrifice  of  the  chief  object,  the  hospital 
can  be  made  an  ornament  to  the  metropolis,  it  would  be  ab- 
surd not  to  make  it  so. 

"  In  the  same  manner,  if  a  government  can,  without  any 
sacrifice  of  its  main  end,  promote  any  other  good  end,  it 
ought  to  do  so.  The  encouragement  of  the  fine  arts,  for  ex- 
ample, is  by  no  means  the  main  end  of  government ;  and  it 
would  be  absurd,  in  constituting  a  government,  to  bestow  a 
thought  on  the  question,  whether  it  would  be  a  government 
likely  to  train  Raphaels  and  Domenichinos.  But  it  by  no 
means  follows  that  it  is  improper  for  a  government  to  form  a 
national  gallery  of  pictures.  The  same  may  be  said  of  patron- 
age bestowed  on  learned  men — of  the  publication  of  archives 
— of  the  collecting  of  libraries,  menageries,  plants,  fossils, 
antiques — of  journeys  and  voyages  for  purposes  of  geogra- 
phical discovery  or  astronomical  observation.  It  is  not  for 
these  ends  that  government  is  constituted.  But  it  may  well 
happen  that  a  government  may  have  at  its  command  resources 
which  will  enable  it,  without  any  injury  to  its  main  end,  to 
serve  these  collateral  ends  far  more  effectually  than  any  indi- 
vidual or  any  voluntary  association  could  do.  If  so,  govern- 
ment ought  to  serve  these  collateral  ends. 

"  It  is  still  more  evidently  the  duty  of  government  to  pro- 
mote— always  in  subordination  to  its  main  end — every  thing 
which  is  useful  as  a  means  for  the  attaining  of  that  main 
end.  The  improvement  of  steam  navigation,  for  example,  is 
by  no  means  a  primary  object  of  government.     But  as  steam 


898  APPENDIX    [f]. 

vessels  are  useful  for  the  purpose  of  national  defence,  and  for 
the  purpose  of  facilitating  intercourse  between  distant  pro- 
vinces, and  thereby  consolidating  the  force  of  the  empire, 
it  may  be  the  bounden  duty  of  government  to  encourage 
ingenious  men  to  perfect  an  invention  which  so  directly 
tends  to  make  the  state  more  efficient  for  its  great  primary 
end. 

"  Now,  on  both  these  grounds,  the  instruction  of  the  people 
may  with  propriety  engage  the  care  of  the  government/^ 
Pp.  273-275. 

"  We  may  illustrate  our  view  of  the  policy  which  govern- 
ments ought  to  pursue  with  respect  to  religious  instruction, 
by  recurring  to  the  analogy  of  a  hospital,  lieligious  instruc- 
tion is  not  the  main  end  for  which  a  hospital  is  built ;  and  to 
introduce  into  a  hospital  any  regulations  prejudicial  to  the 
health  of  the  patients,  on  the  plea  of  promoting  their  spirit- 
ual improvement — to  send  a  ranting  preacher  to  a  man  who 
has  just  been  ordered  by  the  physician  to  lie  quiet  and  try 
to  get  a  little  sleep — to  impose  a  strict  observance  of  Lent  on 
a  convalescent  who  has  been  advised  to  eat  heartily  of  nour- 
ishing food — to  direct,  as  the  bigoted  Pius  the  Fifth  actually 
did,  that  no  medical  assistance  should  be  given  to  those  who 
declined  spiritual  attendance — would  be  the  most  extrava- 
gant folly.  Yet  it  by  no  means  follows  that  it  would  not  be 
right  to  have  a  chaplain  to  attend  the  sick,  and  to  pay  such 
a  chaplain  out  of  the  hospital  funds.  Whether  it  will  be 
proper  to  have  such  a  chaplain  at  all,  and  of  what  religious 
persuasion  that  chaplain  ought  to  be,  must  depend  on  circum- 
stances. There  may  be  a  town  in  which  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  set  up  a  good  hospital  without  the  help  of  people  of 
different  opinions.  And  religious  parties  may  run  so  high, 
that,  though  people  of  different  opinions  are  willing  to  con- 
tribute for  the  relief  of  the  sick,  they  will  not  concur  in  the 
choice  of  any  one  chaplain.  The  high-churchman  insists 
that  if  there  is  a  paid  chaplain,  he  shall  be  a  high-churchman. 
The  evangelicals  stickle  for  an  evangelical.  Here  it  would 
evidently  be  absurd  and  cruel  to  let  a  useful  and  humane  de- 
sign, about  which  all  are  agreed,  fall  to  the  ground,  because 
all  cannot  agree  about  something  else.  The  governors  must 
either  appoint  two  chaplains,  and  pay  them  both,  or  they 
must  appoint  none ;  and  every  one  of  them  must,  in  his  indi- 


APPENDIX    [g].  399 

victual  capacity,  do  what  he  can  for  the  purpose  of  providing 
the  sick  with  such  religious  instruction  and  consolation  as 
will,  in  his  opinion,  be  most  useful  to  them. 

*'  We  should  say  the  same  of  government.  Government  is 
not  an  institution  for  the  propagation  of  religion,  any  more 
than  St.  George's  hospital  is  an  institution  for  the  propaga- 
tion of  religion.  And  the  most  absurd  and  pernicious  conse- 
quences would  follow,  if  government  should  pursue,  as  its 
primary  end,  that  which  can  never  be  more  than  its  second- 
ary end,  though  intrinsically  more  important  than  its  pri- 
mary end.  But  a  government  which  considers  the  religious 
instruction  of  the  people  as  a  secondary  end,  and  follows  out 
that  principle  faithfully,  will,  we  think,  be  likely  to  do  much 
good,  and  little  harm."     Pp.  275,  276. 

[G.]     Part  I.,  Chap,  iii.,  §  3,  p.  130.  , 

"Theirs"  (the  New  Testament  writers)  "is  a  history  of 
miracles :  the  historical  picture  of  the  scene  in  which  the 
Spirit  of  God  was  poured  on  all  flesh,  and  signs  and  wonders, 
visions  and  dreams,  were  part  of  the  essentials  of  their  nar- 
ratives. How  is  all  this  related  ?  With  the  same  absence  of 
high  coloring  and  extravagant  description  with  which  other 
writers  notice  the  ordinary  occurrences  of  the  world  :  partly 
no  doubt  for  the  like  reason,  that  they  were  really  familiar 
with  miracles;  partly  too  because  to  them  these  miracles 
had  long  been  contemplated  only  as  subservient  measures  to 
the  great  object  and  business  of  their  ministry — the  salvation 
of  men's  souls.  On  the  subject  of  miracles,  the  means  to 
this  great  end,  they  speak  in  calm,  unimpassioned  language  : 
on  man's  sins,  change  of  heart,  on  hope,  faith,  and  charity — 
on  the  objects,  in  short,  to  be  effected,  they  exhaust  all  their 
feelings  and  eloquence.  Their  history,  from  the  narrative  of 
our  Lord's  persecutions  to  those  of  Paul,  the  abomination  of 
the  Jews,  embraces  scenes  and  personages  which  claim  from 
the  ordinary  reader  a  continual  effusion  of  sorrow,  or  wonder, 
or  indignation.  In  writers  who  were  friends  of  the  parties, 
and  adherents  of  the  cause  for  which  they  did  and  suffered 
so  great  things,  the  absence  of  it  is  on  ordinary  grounds  in- 
conceivable. Look  ^t  the  account  even  of  the  crucifixion. 
Not  one  burst  of  indignation  or  sympathy  mixes  with  the 


400  APPENDIX    [g]. 

details  of  the  narrative.  Stephen,  the  first  martyr,  is  stoned, 
and  the  account  comprised  in  these  few  words,  '  They  stoned 
Stephen,  calling  upon  God,  and  saying,  Lord  Jesus,  receive 
my  spirit.'  The  varied  and  immense  labors  and  sufferings 
of  the  apostles  are  slightly  hinted  at,  or  else  related  in  this 
dry  and  frigid  way  :  'And  when  they  had  called  the  apostles, 
and  beaten  them,  they  commanded  that  they  should  not 
speak  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  and  let  them  go.'*  'And  there 
came  thither  certain  Jews  from  Antioch  and  Iconium,  who 
persuaded  the  people,  and,  having  stoned  Paul,  drew  him  out 
of  the  city,  supposing  he  had  been  dead.  Howbeit,  as  the 
disciples  stood  round  about  him  he  rose  up,  and  came  into 
the  city;  and  the  next  day  he  departed  with  Barnabas  to 
Derbe.'')'  Had  these  authors  no  feeling  ?  Had  their  mode 
of  life  bereaved  them  of  the  common  sympathies  and  sensi- 
bilities of  human  nature  ?  Read  such  passages  as  St.  Paul's 
parting  address  to  the  elders  of  Miletus ;  the  same  apostle's 
recommendation  to  the  offending  member  of  the  Corinthian 
Church  to  pardon;  and,  more  than  all,  the  occasional  bursts 
of  conflicting  feeling,  in  which  anxious  apprehension  for  the 
faith  and  good  behavior  of  his  converts  is  mixed  with  the 
pleasing  recollection  of  their  conversion,  and  the  minister  and 
the  man  are  alike  strongly  displayed ;  and  it  will  be  plain 
that  Christianity  exercised  no  benumbing  influence  on  the 
heart.  No  :  their  whole  soul  was  occupied  with  one  object, 
which  predominated  over  all  the  means  subservient  to  it,  how- 
ever great  those  means  might  be.  In  the  storm  the  pilot^s 
eye  is  jixed  on  the  headland  which  must  he  iDcathered  j  in  the 
crisis  of  victory  or  defeat^  the  general  sees  only  the  position  to 
he  carried ;  and  the  dead,  and  the  instruments  of  death  fall 
around  him  unheeded.  On  the  salvation  of  men,  on  this  one 
point,  the  witnesses  of  Christ  and  the  ministers  of  his  Spirit 
expended  all  their  energy  of  feeling  and  expression.  All 
that  occurred — mischance,  persecution,  and  miracle — were 
glanced  at  by  the  eye  of  faith  only  in  subserviency  to  this 
mark  of  the  prize  of  their  high  calling,  as  working  together 
for  good,  and  all  exempt  from  the  associations  which  would 
attach  to  such  events  and  scenes,  when  contemplated  by 
themselves,  and  with  the  short-sightedness  of  uninspired  men. 

■ r '• ■ 

*  Acts  V.  40,  41.  f  Acts  xiv.  "19,  20. 


APPENDIX  [n].  401 

Miracles  were  not  to  tliem  objects  of  wonder,  nor  miscliances 
a  subject  of  sorrow  and  lamentation.  They  did  all,  they  suf- 
fered all;  to  the  glory  of  God." — London  Reviewy  No.  ii.,  p.  345. 

[H.]  Part  II.,  Chap,  ii.,  §  2,  p.  179. 

^'  First,  as  to  proximity  of  time,  every  one  knows  that  any 
melancholy  incident  is  the  more  afifecting  that  it  is  recent. 
Hence  it  is  become  common  with  story-tellers,  that  they 
make  a  deeper  impression  on  the  hearers,  to  introduce  re- 
marks like  these.:  that  the  tale  which  they  relate  is  not  old, 
that  it  happened  but  lately,  or  in  their  own  time,  or  that  they 
are  yet  living  who  had  a  part  in  it,  or  were  witnesses  of  it. 
Proximity  of  time  regards  not  only  the  past  but  the  future. 
An  event  that  will  probably  soon  happen,  hath  greater  influ- 
ence upon  us  than  what  will  probably  happen  a  long  time 
hence.  I  have  hitherto  proceeded  on  the  hypothesis,  that 
the  orator  rouses  the  passions  of  his  hearers  by  exhibiting 
some  past  transaction ;  but  we  must  acknowledge  that  passion 
may  be  as  strongly  excited  by  his  reasonings  concerning  an 
evei;t  yet  to  come.  In  the  judiciary  orations  there  is  greater 
scope  for  the  former — in  the  deliberative,  for  the  latter; 
though  in  each  kind  there  may  occasionally  be  scope  for  both. 
All  the  seven  circumstances  enumerated  are  applicable,  and 
have  equal  weight,  whether  they  relate  to  the  future  or  to 
the  past.  The  only  exception  that  I  know  of  is,  that  pro- 
bability and  plausibility  are  scarcely  distinguishable,  when 
used  in  reference  to  events  in  futurity.  As  in  these  there  is 
no  access  for  testimony,  what  constitutes  the  principal  dis- 
tinction is  quite  excluded.  In  comparing  the  influence  of 
the  past  upon  our  minds  with  that  of  the  future,  it  appears 
in  general,  that  if  the  evidence,  the  importance,  and  the  dis- 
tance of  the  objects  be  equal,  the  latter  will  be  greater  than 
the  former.  The  reason,  I  imagine,  is,  we  are  conscious,  that 
as  every  moment  the  future,  which  seems  placed  before  us,  is 
approaching ;  and  the  past,  which  lies,  as  it  were,  behind,  is 
retiring ;  our  nearness  or  relation  to  the  one  constantly  in- 
creascth  as  the  other  decreaseth.  There  is  something  like 
attraction  in  the  first  case,  and  repulsion  in  the  second.  This 
tends  to  interest  us  more  in  the  future  than  in  the  past,  and 
consequently  to  the  present  view  aggrandizes  the  One,  and 
diminishes  the  other. 


402  APPENDIX   [h]. 

"What,  nevertheless,  gives  the  past  a  very  considerable 
advantage,  is  its  being  generally  susceptible  of  much  stronger 
evidence  than  the  future.  The  lights  of  the  mind  are,  if  I 
may  so  express  myself,  in  an  opposite  situation  to  the  lights 
of  the  body.  These  discover  clearly  the  prospect  lying  be- 
fore us,  but  not  the  ground  we  have  already  passed.  By  the 
memory,  on  the  contrary,  that  great  luminary  of  the  mind, 
things  past  are  exhibited  in  retrospect :  we  have  no  corre- 
spondent faculty  to  irradiate  the  future ;  and  even  in  matters 
which  fall  not  within  the  reach  of  our  memory,  past  events 
are  often  clearly  discoverable  by  testimony,  and  by  effects  at 
present  existing;  whereas  we  have  nothing  equivalent  to 
found  our  arguments  upon  in  reasoning  about  things  to  come. 
It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  future  is  considered  as  the  pro- 
vince of  conjecture  and  uncertainty. 

"Local  connection,  the  fifth  in  the  above  enumeration,  hath 
a  more  powerful  effect  than  proximity  of  time.  Duration  and 
space  are  two  things  (call  them  entities,  or  attributes,  or 
what  you  please)  in  some  respects  the  most  like,  and  in  some 
respects  the  most  unlike,  to  one  another.  They  resemble  in 
continuity,  divisibility,  infinity,  in  their  being  deemed  essen- 
tial to  the  existence  of  other  things,  and  in  the  doubts  that 
have  been  raised  as  to  their  having  a  real  or  independent 
existence  of  their  own.  They  differ  in  that  the  latter  is  per- 
manent, whereas  the  very  essence  of  the  former  consisteth  in 
transitories ;  the  parts  of  the  one  are  all  successive,  of  the 
other  all  coexistent.  The  greater  portions  of  time  are  all 
distiuQ-uished  bv  the  memorable  thino-s  which  have  been 
transacted  in  them,  the  smaller  portions  by  the  revolutions 
of  the  heavenly  bodies ;  the  portions  of  place,  great  and  small, 
(for  we  do  not  here  consider  the  regions  of  the  fixed  stars 
and  planets,)  are  distinguished  by  the  various  tracts  of  land 
and  water,  into  which  the  earth  is  divided  and  subdivided ; 
the  one  distinction  intelligible,  the  other  sensible ;  the  one 
chiefly  known  to  the  inquisitive,  the  other  in  a  great  measure 
obvious  to  all. 

"  Hence  perhaps  it  arises,  that  the  latter  is  considered  as 
a  firmer  ground  of  relation  than  the  former.  Who  is  not 
more  curious  to  know  the  notable  transactions  which  have 
happened  in  his  own  country  from  the  earliest  antiquity,  than 
to  be  acquainted  with  those  which  have  happened  in  the  re- 


APPENDIX   [h].  403 

motest  regions  of  the  globe  during  the  century  wherein  he 
lives  ?  It  must  be  owned,  however,  that  the  former  circum- 
stance is  more  frequently  aided  by  that  of  personal  relation 
than  the  latter.  Connection  of  place  not  only  includes 
vicinage,  but  every  other  local  relation,  such  as  being  in  a 
province  under  the  same  government  wi^i  us,  in  a  State  that 
is  in  alliance  with  us,  in  a  country  well  known  to  us,  and  the 
like.  Of  the  influence  of  this  connection  in  operating  on 
our  passions,  we  have  daily  proofs.  With  how  much  indif- 
ference, at  least  with  how  slight  and  transient  emotions,  do 
we  read  in  newspapers  the  accounts  of  the  most  deplorable 
accidents  in  countries  distant  and  unknown  !  How  much,  on 
the  contrary,  are  we  alarmed  and  agitated  on  being  informed 
that  any  such  accident  hath  happened  in  our  own  neighbor- 
hood, and  that,  even  though  we  be  totally  unacquainted  with 
the  persons  concerned  ! 

^'  8till  greater  is  the  power  of  relation  to  the  persons  con- 
cerned, which  was  the  sixth  circumstance  mentioned,  as  this 
tie  is  more  direct  than  that  which  attacheth  us  to  the  scene 
of  action.  It  is  the  persons,  not  the  place,  that  are  the  im- 
mediate objects  of  the  passions,  love  or  hatred,  pity  or  anger, 
envy  or  contempt.  Relation  to  the  actors  commonly  pro- 
duces an  effect  contrary  to  that  produced  by  relation  to  the 
sufferers,  the  first  in  extenuation,  the  second  in  aggravation, 
of  the  crime  alleged.  The  first  makes  for  the  apologist,  the 
second  for  the  accuser.  This,  I  say,  is  commonly  the  case, 
not  always.  A  remote  relation  to  the  actors,  when  the 
offence  is  heinous,  especially  if  the  sufferers  be  more  nearly 
related,  will  sometimes  rather  aggravate  than  extenuate  the 
guilt  in  our  estimation.  But  it  is  impossible  with  any  pre- 
cision to  reduce  these  effects  to  rules  ;  so  much  depending  on 
the  different  tempers  and  sentiments  of  different  audiences. 
Personal  relations  are  of  various  kinds.  Some  have  generally 
greater  influence  than  others  ]  some  again  have  greater  in- 
fluence with  one  person,  others  with  another.  They  are  con- 
sanguinity, affinity,  friendship,  acquaintance,  being  fellow- 
citizens,  countrymen,  of  the  same  surname,  language,  reli- 
gion, occupation,  and  innumerable  others. 

*'But  of  all  the  connective  circumstances,  the  most  power- 
ful is  interest,  which  is  the  last.  Of  all  relations,  personal 
relation,  by  bringing  the  object  very  near,  most  enlivens  that 


404  APPENDIX  [h]. 

sympathy,  which  attaches  us  to  the  concerns  of  others:  interest 
in  the  effects  brings  the  object,  if  I  may  say  so,  into  contact 
with  us,  and  makes  the  mind  cling  to  it,  as  a  concern  of  its 
own.  Sympathy  is  but  a  reflected  feeling,  and  therefore,  in 
ordinary  cases,  must  be  weaker  than  the  original.  Though 
the  mirror  be  ever  so  true,  a  lover  will  not  be  obliged  to  it 
for  presenting  him  with  the  figure  of  his  mistress,  when  he 
hath  an  opportunity  of  gazing  on  her  person.  Nor  will  the 
orator  place  his  chief  confidence  in  the  assistance  of  the  social 
and  sympathetic  aff"ections,  when  he  hath  it  in  his  power  to 
arm  the  selfish. 

"Men  universally,  from  a  just  conception  of  the  difference, 
have,  when  self  is  concerned,  given  a  different  name  to  what 
seems  originally  the  same  passion  in  a  higher  degree.  Injury, 
to  whomsoever  offered,  is  to  every  man  that  observes  it,  and 
whose  sense  of  right  is  not  debauched  by  vicious  practice, 
the  natural  object  of  indignation.  Indignation  always  im- 
plies 7'esentme7it,  or  a  desire  of  retaliating  on  the  injurious 
person,  so  far  at  least  as  to  make  him  repent  the  wrong  he 
hath  committed.  This  indignation  in  the  person  injured  is, 
frem  our  knowledge  of  mankind,  supposed  to  be,  not  indeed 
universally,  but  generally  so  much  stronger,  that  it  ought  to 
be  distinguished  by  another  appellation,  and  is  accordingly 
denominated  revenge.  In  like  manner,  beneficence,  on  whom- 
soever exercised,  is  the  natural  object  of  our  love;  love 
always  implies  henevolence,  or  a  desire  of  promoting  the  hap- 
piness of  the  beneficent  person ;  but  this  passion  in  the  person 
benefited  is  conceived  to  be  so  much  greater,  and  to  infer  so 
strong  an  obligation  to  a  return  of  good  offices  to  his  bene- 
factor, that  it  merits  to  be  distinguished  by  the  title  grati- 
tude. Now  by  this  circumstance  of  interest  in  the  effects, 
the  speaker,  from  engaging  jDity  in  his  favor,  can  proceed  to 
operate  on  a  more  powerful  principle,  self-preservation.  The 
henevolence  of  his  hearers  he  can  work  up  into  gratitude,  their 
indignation  into  revenge. 

'^The  two  last-mentioned  circumstances,  personal  relation 
and  interest,  are  not  without  influence,  as  was  hinted  in  the 
enumeration,  though  they  regard  the  speaker  only,  and  not 
the  hearers.  The  reason  is,  a  person  present  with  us,  whom 
we  see  and  hear,  and  who  by  words,  and  looks,  and  gestures, 
gives  the  liveliest  signs  of  his  feelings,  has  the  surest  and 


APPENDIX    [l].  405 

most  immediate  claim  upon  our  sympathy.  We  become  in- 
fected with  his  passions.  We  are  hurried  along  by  them,  and 
not  allowed  leisure  to  distinguish  between  his  relation  and 
our  relation,  his  interest  and  our  interest." — Campbell's 
Rhetoric,  pp.  184-190.  (Book  I.,  chap,  vii.,  §  5,  Parts  4,  6, 
6,7.) 

[I.]  Part  IL,  Chap,  ii.,  §  2,  p.  181. 

A  good  illustration  of  what  has  been  said  is  supplied  by 
the  following  extract  from  Mr.  Milman's  Bampton  Lectures, 
(Lecture  VI.,  p.  209  :)  '^  Conceive  then  the  apostles  of  Jesus 
Christ,  the  tent-maker  or  the  fisherman,  entering,  as  strangers, 
into  one  of  the  splendid  cities  of  Syria,  Asia  Minor,  or  Greece. 
Conceive  them,  I  mean,  as  unendowed  with  miraculous  powers, 
having  adopted  their  itinerant  system  of  teaching  from  human 
motives  and  for  human  purposes  alone.  As  they  pass  along 
to  the  remote  and  obscure  quarter,  where  they  expect  to 
meet  with  precarious  hospitality  among  their  countrymen, 
they  survey  the  strength  of  the  established  religion,  which  it 
is  their  avowed  purpose  to  overthrow.  Everywhere  they 
behold  temples  on  which  the  utmost  extravagance  of  expendi- 
ture has  been  lavished  by  succeeding  generations;  idols  of 
the  most  exquisite  workmanship,  to  which,  even  if  the  reli- 
gious feeling  of  adoration  is  enfeebled,  the  people  are  strongly 
attached  by  national  or  local  vanity.  They  meet  processions 
in  which  the  idle  find  perpetual  occupation,  the  young  excite- 
ment, the  voluptuous  a  continual  stimulant  to  their  passions. 
They  behold  a  priesthood,  numerous,  sometimes  wealthy ;  nor 
are  these  alone  wedded  by  interest  to  the  established  faith ; 
man}^  of  the  trades,  like  those  of  the  makers  of  silver  shrines 
in  Ephesus,  are  pledged  to  the  support  of  that  to  which  they 
owe  their  maintenance.  They  pass  a  magnificent  theatre,  on 
the  splendor  and  success  of  which  the  popularity  of  the  ex- 
isting authorities  mainly  depends ;  and  in  which  the  serious 
exhibitions  are  essentially  religious,  the  lighter  as  intimately 
connected  with  the  indulgence  of  the  baser  passions.  They 
behold  another  public  building,  where  even  worse  feelings, 
the  cruel  and  the  sanguinary,  are  pampered  by  the  animating 
contests  of  wild  beasts  and  of  gladiators,  in  which  they  them- 
selves may  shortly  play  a  dreadful  part. 

Butchered  to  make  a  Romau  holiday ! 


406  APPENDIX    [l]. 

Show  and  spectacle  are  the  characteristic  enjoyments  of  the 
whole  people,  and  every  show  and  spectacle  is  either  sacred 
to  the  religious  feelings,  or  incentive  to  the  lusts  of  the  flesh 
— those  feelings  which  must  be  entirely  eradicated,  those 
lusts  which  must  be  brought  into  total  subjection  to  the  law 
of  Christ.  They  encounter  likewise  itinerant  jugglers,  divi- 
ners, magicians,  who  impose  upon  the  credulous,  and  excite 
the  contempt  of  the  enlightened:  in  the  first  case,  dangerous 
rivals  to  those  who  should  attempt  to  propagate  a  new  faith 
by  imposture  and  deception ;  in  the  latter,  naturally  tending 
to  prejudice  the  mind  against  all  miraculous  pretensions 
whatever :  here,  like  Elymas,  endeavoring  to  outdo  the  signs 
and  wonders  of  the  apostles ;  there,  throwing  suspicion  on  all 
asserted  supernatural  agency,  by  the  frequency  and  clumsi- 
ness of  their  delusions.  They  meet  philosophers,  frequently 
itinerant  like  themselves ;  or  teachers  of  new  religions,  priests 
of  Isis  and  Serapis,  who  have  brought  into  equal  discredit 
what  might  otherwise  have  appeared  a  proof  of  philanthropy, 
the  performing  laborious  journeys  at  the  sacrifice  of  personal 
ease  and  comfort  for  the  moral  and  religious  improvement  of 
mankind ;  or,  at  least,  have  so  accustomed  the  public  mind  to 
similar  pretensions,  as  to  take  away  every  attraction  from 
their  boldness  or  novelty.  There  are  also  the  teachers  of  the 
different  mysteries,  which  would  engross  all  the  anxiety  of 
the  inquisitive,  perhaps  excite,  even  if  they  did  not  satisfy, 
the  hopes  of  the  more  pure  and  lofty-minded.  Such  must 
have  been  among  the  obstacles  which  would  enforce  them- 
selves on  the  calmer  moments  of  the  most  ardent ;  such  the 
overpowering  diflScultieSj  of  which  it  would  be  impossible  to 
overlook  the  importance,  or  elude  the  force ;  which  required 
no  sober  calculation  to  estimate,  no  laborious  inquiry  to  dis- 
cover ;  which  met  and  confronted  them  wherever  they  went, 
and  which,  either  in  desperate  presumption,  or  deliberate 
reliance  on  their  own  preternatural  powers,  they  must  have 
contemned  and  defied. 

"The  commencement  of  their  labors  was  usually  disheart- 
ening, and  ill-calculated  to  keep  alive  the  flame  of  ungrounded 
enthusiasm.  They  begin  their  operations  in  the  narrow  and 
secluded  synagogue  of  their  own  countrymen.  The  novelty 
of  their  doctrine,  and  curiosity,  secure  them  at  first  a  patient 
attention ;  but  as  the  more  offensive  tenets  are  developed,  the 


APPENDIX    [l].  407 

most  fierce  and  violent  passions  are  awakened.  Scorn  and 
hatred  are  seen  working  in  the  clouded  brows  and  agitated 
countenances  of  the  leaders  :  if  here  and  there  «ne  is  pricked 
to  the  heart,  it  requires  considerable  moral  courage  to  acknow- 
ledge his  conviction ;  and  the  new  teachers  are  either  cast 
forth  from  the  indignant  assembly  of  their  own  people,  liable 
to  all  the  punishments  which  they  are  permitted  to  inflict, 
scourged  and  beaten  -,  or,  if  they  succeed  in  forming  a  party, 
they  give  rise  to  furious  schism ;  and  thus  appear  before  the 
heathen  with  the  dangerous  notoriety  of  having  caused  a 
violent  tumult,  and  broken  the  public  peace  by  their  turbu- 
lent and  contentious  harangues ;  at  all  events,  disclaimed  by 
that  very  people  on  whose  traditions  they  profess  to  build 
their  doctrines,  and  to  whose  Scriptures  they  appeal  in  justi- 
fication of  their  pretensions.  They  endure,  they  persevere, 
they  continue  to  sustain  the  contest  against  Judaism  and 
Paganism.  It  is  still  their  deliberate,  ostensible,  and  avowed 
object  to  overthrow  all  this  vast  system  of  idolatry;  to  tear 
up  by  the  roots  all  ancient  prejudices;  to  silence  shrines, 
sanctified  by  the  veneration  of  ages  as  oracular ;  to  consign 
all  those  gorgeous  temples  to  decay,  and  all  those  images  to 
contempt;  to  wean  the  people  from  every  barbarous  and  dis- 
solute amusement.  .... 

^^  But  in  one  respect  it  is  impossible  now  to  conceive  the 
extent  to  which  the  apostles  of  the  crucified  Jesus  shocked 
all  the  feelings  of  mankind.  The  public  establishment  of 
Christianity,  the  adoration  of  ages,  the  reverence  of  nations, 
has  thrown  around  the  cros^  of  Christ  an  indelible  and  in- 
alienable sanctity.  No  effort  of  the  imagination  can  dissi- 
pate the  illusion  of  dignity  which  has  gathered  round  it ;  it 
has  been  so  long  dissevered  from  all  its, coarse  and  humiliat- 
ing associations,  that  it  cannot  be  cast  back  and  desecrated 
into  its  state  of  opprobrium  and  contempt.  To  the  most  dar- 
ing unbeliever  among  ourselves,  it  is  the  symbol,  the  absurd 
and  irrational,  he  may  conceive,  but  still  the  ancient  and 
venerable  symbol,  of  a  powerful  and  influential  religion*: 
what  was  it  to  the  Jew  and  to  the  heathen  ?  the  basest,  the 
most  degrading  punishment  of  the  lowest  criminal  I  the  pro- 
verbial terror  of  the  wretched  slave  !  it  was  to  them  what  the 
most  despicable  and  revolting  instrument  of  public  execution 
is  to  us.     Yet  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  men  turned  from  deities 


408  APPENDIX    [k]. 

in  whicli  were  embodied  every  attitude  of  strength,  power, 
and  dignity ;  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  multitudes 
gave  up  the  splendor,  the  pride,  and  the  power  of  paganism, 
to  adore  a  Being  who  was  thus  humiliated  beneath  the  mean- 
est of  mankind,  who  had  become,  according  to  the  literal  in- 
terpretation of  the  prophecy,  a  very  scor7i  of  men,  and  an 
outcast  of  the  people." — Milman's  Bampton  Lectures,  Lect. 
vi.,  p.  279. 

[K.]     Part  II.,  Chap,  ii.,  §  4,  p.  184. 

^'  Such  is  our  yoke  and  our  burden  !  Let  him  who  has 
thought  it  too  hard  and  too  heavy  to  bear,  be  prepared  to 
state  it  boldly  when  he  shall  appear  side  by  side  with  the 
poor  and  mistaken  Indian  before  the  throne  of  God  at  the 
day  of  judgment.  The  poor  heathen  may  come  forward  with 
his  wounded  limbs  and  weltering  body,  saying,  '  I  thought 
thee  an  austere  master,  delighting  in  the  miseries  of  thy 
creatures,  and  I  have  accordingly  brought  thee  the  torn  rem- 
nants of  a  body  which  I  have  tortured  in  thy  service.^ 
And  the  Christian  will  come  forward  and  say,  '  I  knew  that 
thou  didst  die  to  save  me  from  such  sufferings  and  torments, 
and  that  thou  only  commandedst  me  to  keep  my  body  in  tem- 
perance, soberness,  and  chastity,  and  I  thought  it  too  hard 
for  me ;  and  I  have  accordingly  brought  thee  the  refuse  and 
sweepings  of  a  body  that  has  been  corrupted  and  brutalized 
in  the  service  of  profligacy  and  drunkenness — even  the  body 
which  thou  didst  declare  should  be  the  temple  of  thy  Holy 
Spirit.'  The  poor  Indian  will,  perhaps,  show  his  hands, 
reeking  with  the  blood  of  his  children,  saying,  *  I  thought 
this  was  the  sacrifice , with  which  God  was  well  pleased.'  And 
you,  the  Christian,  will  come  forward  with  blood  upon  thy 
hands  also — '  I  knew  that  thou  gavest  thy  Son  for  my  sacri- 
fice, and  commandedst  me  to  lead  my  offspring  in  the  way  of 
everlasting  life ;  but  the  command  was  too  hard  for  me,  to 
teach  them  thy  statutes,  and  to  set  them  my  humble  example : 
I  have  let  them  go  the  broad  way  to  destruction,  and  their 
blood  is  upon  my  hand — and  my  heart — and  my  head.'  The 
Indian  will  come  forward,  and  say,  '  Behold,  I  am  come  from 
the  wood,  the  desert,  and  the  wilderness,  where  I  fled  from 
the  cheerful  society  of  my  fellow-mortals,  because  I  thought 


APPENDIX    [k].  409 

it  was  pleasing  to  thy  sight.'  And  the  Christian  will  come 
forward  and  say,  ^  Behold,  I  am  come  from  my  comfortable 
home  and  the  communion  of  my  brethren,  which  thou  hast 
graciously  permitted  me  to  enjoy;  but  I  thought  it  too  hard 
to  give  them  a  share  of  those  blessings  which  thou  hast  be- 
stowed upon  me ;  I  thought  it  too  hard  to  give  them  a  por- 
tion of  my  time,  my  trouble,  my  fortune,  or  my  interest  •  I 
thought  it  too  hard  to  keep  my  tongue  from  cursing  and  re- 
viling, my  heart  from  hatred,  and  my  hand  from  violence  and 
revenge.'  What  will  be  the  answer  of  the  Judge  to  the  poor 
Indian,  none  can  presume  to  say.  That  he  was  sadly  mis- 
taken in  the  means  of  salvation,  and  that  what  he  had  done 
could  never  purchase  him  everlasting  life,  is  beyond  a  doubt ; 
but  yet  the  Judge  may  say,  '  Come  unto  me,  thou  heavy- 
laden,  and  I  will  give  thee  the  rest  which  thou  couldst  not 
purchase  for  thyself.'  But,  to  the  Christian,  'Thou,  who 
hadst  my  easy  yoke,  and  my  light  burden ;  thou,  for  whom 

all  was  already  purchased :' Thank  God !   it  is  not  yet 

pronounced.  Begone !  and  fly  for  thy  life !" — Wolfe's 
Sermons,  (^Remains,)  Sermon  X.,  pp.  371-373. 

^'  Suppose  it  were  suddenly  revealed  to  any  one  among  you 
that  he,  and  he  alone  of  all  that  walk  upon  the  face  of  this 
earth,  was  destined  to  receive  the  benefit  of  his  Kedcemer's 
atonement,  and  that  all  the  rest  of  mankind  was  lost — and 
lost  to  all  eternity — it  is  hard  to  say  what  would  be  the  first 
sensation  excited  in  that  man's  mind  by  the  intelligence.  It 
is  indeed  probable  it  would  be  joy — to  think  that  all  his  fears 
respecting  his  eternal  destiny  were  now  no  more  ;  that  all  the 
forebodings  of  the  mind  and  misgivings  of  the  heart — all  the 
solemn  stir  which  we  feel  rising  within  us  whenever  we  look 
forward  to  a  dark  futurity — to  feel  that  all  these  had  now 
subsided  for  ever — to  know  that  he  shall  stand  in  the  ever- 
lasting sunshine  of  the  love  of  God !  It  is  perhaps  impos- 
sible that  all  this  should  not  call  forth  an  immediate  feeling 
of  delight;  but  if  you  wish  the  sensation  to  continue,  you 
must  go  to  the  wilderness ;  you  must  beware  how  you  come 
within  sight  of  a  human  being,  or  within  sound  of  a  human 
voice ;  you  must  recollect  that  you  are  now  alone  upon  the 
earth ;  or,  if  you  want  society,  you  had  better  look  for  it 
among  the  beasts  of  the  field  than  among  the  ruined  species 
to  which  you  belong  3  unless  indeed  the  Almighty,  in  pity  to 


410  APPENDIX   [l]. 

your  desolation,  should  send  his  angels  before  the  appointed 
time,  that  you  might  learn  to  forget  in  their  society  the  out- 
cast objects  of  your  former  sympathies.  But  to  go  abroad 
into  human  society — to  walk  amongst  beings  who  are  now  no 
longer  your  fellow-creatures — to  feel  the  charity  of  your  com- 
mon nature  rising  in  your  heart,  and  to  have  to  crush  it 
within  you  like  a  sin — to  reach  forth  your  hand  to  perform 
one  of  the  common  kindnesses  of  humanity,  and  to  find  it 
withered  by  the  recollection,  that  however  you  may  mitigate 
a  present  pang,  the  everlasting  pang  is  irreversible — to  turn 
away  in  despair  from  these  children  whom  you  have  now 
come  to  bless  and  to  save  (we  hope  and  trust  both  here  and 
for  ever !) — perhaps  it  would  be  too  much  for  you ;  at  all 
events,  it  would  be  hard  to  state  a  degree  of  exertion  within 
the  utmost  range  of  human  energy,  or  a  degree  of  pain  within 
the  farthest  limit  of  human  endurance,  to  which  you  would 
not  submit,  that  you  might  have  one  companion  on  your 
lonely  way  from  this  world  to  the  mansions  of  happiness. 
But  suppose,  at  that  moment,  that  the  angel  who  brought  the 
first  intelligence  returns  to  tell  you  that  there  are  beings  upon 
this  earth  who  may  yet  be  saved — that  he  was  before  mis- 
taken, no  matter  how — perhaps  he  was  your  guardian  angel, 
and  darted  from  the  throne  of  grace  with  the  intelligence  of 
your  salvation  without  waiting  to  hear  the  fate  of  the  rest  of 
mankind — no  matter  how — but  he  comes  to  tell  you  that 
there  are  beings  upon  the  earth  who  are  within  the  reach  of 
your  Redeemer's  love,  and  of  your  own — that  some  of  them 
are  now  before  you,  and  their  everlasting  destiny  is  placed  in 
your  hands ;  then,  what  would  first  occur  to  your  mind  ? — 
privations — dangers — difficulties  ?  No }  but  you  would  say, 
'  Lord,  what  shall  I  do  ?  Shall  I  traverse  earth  and  sea, 
through  misery  and  torment,  that  of  those  whom  thou  hast 
given  me  I  may  not  lose  one  V  " — Ihid,  Sermon  XI.,  pp. 
391-393. 

[L.]     Part  III.,  Chap,  i.,  §  6,  p.  247. 

In  Dr.  Campbell's  ingenious  dissertation  (^Rhetoric,  book 
ii.,  chap.  6)  "  on  the  causes  that  nonsense  often  escapes  being 
detected,  both  by  the  writer  and  the  reader/'  he  remarks, 
(sect.  2,)  that  "  there  are  particularly  three  sorts  of  writing, 


APPENDIX    [l].  411 

wherein  we  are  liable  to  be  imposed  upon  by  words  without 
meaning." 

"The  first  is,"  where  thei'/C  is  an  exuberance  of  metaphor. 
Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  this  trope,  when  tem- 
perately and  appositely  used,  serves  to  add  light  to  the  ex- 
pression, and  energy  to  the  sentiment.  On  the  contrary, 
when  vaguely  and  intemperately  used,  nothing  can  servo 
more  effectually  to  cloud  the  sense,  where  there  is  sense,  and 
by  consequence  to  conceal  the  defect,  where  there  is  no  sense 
to  show.  And  this  is  the  case,  not  only  where  there'  is  in 
the  same  sentence  a  mixture  of  discordant  metaphors,  but  also 
where  the  metaphoric  style  is  too  long  continued,  and  too  far 
pursued.  \_Ut  inodicua  autem  atque  opportunns  transla- 
tionis  nsus  illustrat  orationem ;  ita  frequens  et  ohs^curat  et 
tsprlio  complet ;  continuus  vero  in  allegoriam  et  xnigmate  exit. 
Quint.,  lib.  viii.,  c.  6.]  The  reason  is  obvious.  In  common 
speech  the  words  are  the  immediate  signs  of  the  thought.  • 
But  it  is  not  so  here )  for  when  a  person,  instead  of  adopting 
metaphors  that  come  naturally  and  opportunely  in  his  way, 
rummages  the  whole  world  in  quest  of  them,  and  piles  them 
one  upon  another,  when  he  cannot  so  properly  be  said  to  use 
metaphor  as  to  talk  in  metaphor,  or  rather  when  from  meta- 
phor he  runs  into  allegory,  and  thence  into  enigma,  his  words 
are  not  the  immediate  signs  of  his  thought ;  they  are  at  best  but 
the  signs  of  the  signs  of  his  thought.  His  writing  may  then 
be  called,  what  Spenser  not  unjustly  styled  his  Fairy  Queen,  a 
perpetual  allegory  or  dark  conceit.  Most  readers  will  ac- 
count it  much  to  bestow  a  transfent  glance  on  the  literal 
sense,  which  lies  nearest,  but  will  never  think  of  that  mean- 
ing more  remote,  which  the  figures  themselves  are  intended 
to  signify.  It  is  no  wonder  then  that  this  sense,  for  the  dis- 
covery of  which  it  is  necessary  to  see  through  a  double  veil, 
should,  where  it  is,  more  readily  escape  our  observation,  and 
that  where  it  is  wanting,  we  should  not  so  quickly  miss  it. 

"  There  is,  in  respect  of  the  two  meanings,  considerable 
variety  to  be  found  in  the  tropical  style.  In  just  allegory 
and  similitude  there  is  always  a  propriety,  or,  if  you  choose 
to  call  it,  congruity,  in  the  literal  sense,  as  well  as  a  distinct 
meaning  or  sentiment  suggested,  which  is  called  the  figurative 
sense.   Examples  of  this  arc  unnecessary.   x\gain,  where  the  fig- 


412  APPENDIX    [l]. 

urative  sense  is  unexceptionable,  there  is  sometimes  an  incon- 
gruity in  the  expression  of  the  literal  sense.  This  is  always  the 
case  in  mixed  metaphor,  a  thing  not  unfrequent  even  in  good 
writers.  Thus,  when  Addison  remarks  that  '  there  is  not  a 
single  view  of  human  nature  which  is  not  sufficient  to  extin- 
guish the  seeds  of  pride,'  he  expresses  a  true  sentiment  some- 
what incongruously ;  for  the  terms  extinguish  and  seeds,  here 
metaphorically  used,  do  not  suit  each  other.  In  like  man- 
ner, there  is  something  incongruous  in  the  mixture  of  tropes 
empl(5yed  in  the  following  passage  from  Lord  Bolingbroke  : 
^  Nothing  less  than  the  hearts  of  iiis  people  will  content  a  pa- 
triot prince,  nor  will  he  think  his  throne  established  till  it  is 
established  there.'  Yet  the  thought  is  excellent.  But  in 
neither  of  these  examples  does  the  incongruity  of  the  ex- 
pression hurt  the  perspicuity  of  the  sentence.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  the  literal  meaning  involves  a  direct  absurdity. 
When  this  is  the  case,  as  in  the  quotation  from  The  Princi- 
ples of  Painting  given  in  the  preceding  chapter,  it  is  natural 
for  the  reader  to  suppose  that  there  must  be  something  under 
it ;  for  it  is  not  easy  to  say  how  absurdly  even  just  senti- 
ments will  sometimes  be  expressed.  But  when  no  such 
hidden  sense  can  be  discovered,  what  in  the  first  view  con- 
veyed to  our  minds  a  glaring  absurdity,  is  rightly  on  reflec- 
tion denominated  nonsense.  We  are  satisfied  that  Be  Piles 
neither  thought,  nor  wanted  his  readers  to  think,  that 
Rubens  was  really  the  original  performer,  and  God  the 
copier.  This  then  was  not  his  meaning.  But  what  he 
actually  thought  and  wanted  them  to  think,  it  is  impossible  to 
elicit  from  his  words.  His  words  then  may  justly  be  styled 
hold  in  respect  of  their  literal  import,  but  unmeaning  in 
respect  of  the  author's  intention. 

'  It  may  be  proper  here  to  observe,  that  some  are  apt  to 
confound  the  terms  absurdity  and  nonsense  as  synonymous ; 
which  they  manifestly  are  not.  An  absurdity,  in  the  strict 
acceptation,  is  a  proposition  either  intuitively  or  demon- 
stratively false.  Of  this  kind  are  these :  '  Three  and  two 
make  seven.'  ^AU  the  angles  of  a  triangle  are  greater  than 
two  right  angles.'  That  the  former  is  false  we  know  by  in- 
tuition;  that  the  latter  is  so  we  are  able  to  demonstrate. 
But  the  term  is  further  extended  to  denote  a  notorious  false- 
hood.    If  one  should  affirm,  that  '  at  the  vernal  equinox  the 


APPENDIX    [l].  413 

sun  rises  in  the  north  and  sets  in  the  south/  we  should  not 
hesitate  to  say  that  he  advances  an  absurdity  j  but  still  what 
he  affirms  has  a  meaning;  insomuch,  that  on  hearing  the 
sentence  we  pronounce  its  falsity.  Now  nonsense  is  that 
whereof  we  cannot  say  either  that  it  is  true,  or  that  it  is 
false.  Thus,  when  the  Teutonic  Thcosopher  enounces  that 
^all  the  voices  of  the  celestial  joyfulness  qualify,  commix, 
and  harmonize  in  the  fire  which  was  from  eternity  in  the 
good  quality,^  I  should  think  it  equally  impertinent  to  aver 
the  falsity  as  the  truth  of  this  enunciation.  For,  though 
the  words  grammatically  form  a  sentence,  they  exhibit  to  the 
understanding  no  judgment,  and  consequently  admit  neither 
assent  nor  dissent.  In  the  former  instances  I  say  the  mean- 
ing, or  what  they  affirm,  is  absurd ;  in  the  last  instance  I  say 
there  is  no  meaning,  and  therefore  properly  nothing  is 
affirmed.  In  popular  language,  I  own,  the  terms  absurdity 
and  nonsense  are  not  so  accurately  distinguished.  Absurd 
positions  are  sometimes  called  nonsensical.  It  is  not  common, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  say  of  downright  nonsense,  that  it  com- 
prises an  absurdity. 

*'  Further,  in  the  literal  sense  there  may  be  nothing  un- 
suitable, and  yet  the  reader  may  be  at  a  loss  to  find  a  figura- 
tive meaning,  to  which  his  expressions  can  with  justice  be 
applied.  Writers  immoderately  attached  to  the  florid,  or 
highly  figured  diction,  are  often  misled  by  a  desire  of  fiour- 
ishing  on  the  several  attributes  of  a  metaphor  which  they 
have  pompously  ushered  into  the  discourse,  without  taking 
the  trouble  to  examine  whether  there  be  any  qualities  in  the 
subject,  to  which  these  attributes  can  with  justice  and  per- 
spicuity be  applied.  '  This  immoderate  use  of  metaphor,^ 
Dr.  Campbell  observes,  '  is  the  principal  source  of  all  the 
nonsense  of  orators  and  poets.' 

''  The  second  species  of  writing  wherein  we  are  liable  to 
be  imposed  on  by  words  without  meaning,  is  that  wherein 
the  terms  most  frequently  occurring  denote  things  which 
are  of  a  complicated  nature,  and  to  which  the  mind  is  not 
sufficiently  familiarized.  Many  of  those  notions  which 
are  called  by  philosophers  mixed  modes,  come  under  this  de- 
nomination. Of  these  the  instances  are  numerous  in  every 
tongue ;  such  as  government,  church,  state,  constitution,  pollti/, 
^ower^  commerce^  legislature^  jurisdiction^  proportion^  sym- 


414  APPENDIX    [l], 

metry,  elegance.  It  will  considerably  increase  the  danger  of 
our  being  deceived  by  an  unmeaning  use  of  sucb  terms,  if 
they  are  besides  (as  very  often  they  are)  of  so  indeterminate, 
and  consequently  equivocal,  signification,  that  a  writer,  un- 
observed either  by  himself  or  by  his  reader,  may  slide  from 
one  sense  of  the  term  to  another,  till  by  degrees  he  fall  into 
such  applications  of  it  as  will  make  no  sense  at  all.  It  de- 
serves our  notice  also,  that  we  are  in  much  greater  danger 
of  terminating  in  'this,  if  the  different  meanings  of  the 
same  word  have  some  affinity  to  one  another,  than  if  they 
have  none.  In  the  latter  case,  when  there  is  no  affinity,  the 
transition  from  one  meaning  to  another  is  taking  a  very  wide 
step,  and  what  few  writers  are  in  any  danger  of;  it  is,  be- 
sides, what  will  not  so  readily  escape  the  observation  of  the 
reader.  So  much  for  the  second  cause  of  deception,  which 
is  the  chief  source  of  all  the  nonsense  of  writers  on  politics 
and  criticisn>. 

"  The  third  and  last,  and,  I  may  add,  the  principal  species 
of  composition,  wherein  we  are  exposed  to  this  illusion  by 
the  abuse  of  words,  is  that  in  which  the  terms  employed  are 
very  abstract,  and  consequently  of  very  extensive  significa- 
tion. It  is  an  observation  that  plainly  ariseth  from  the 
nature  and  structure  of  language,  and  may  be  deduced  as  a 
corollary  from  what  hath  been  said  of  the  use  of  artificial 
signs,  that  the  more  general  any  name  is,  as  it  comprehends 
the  more  individuals  under  it,  and  consequently  requires  the 
more  extensive  knowledge  in  the  mind  that  would  rightly 
apprehend  it,  the  more  it  must  have  of  indistinctness  and 
obscurity.  Thus  the  word  lion  is  more  distinctly  appre- 
hended by  the  mind  than  the  word  heast,  beast  than  animal, 
animal  than  being.  But  there  is,  in  what  are  called  abstract 
subjects,  a  still  greater  fund  of  obscurity  than  that  arising 
from  the  frequent  mention  of  the  most  general  terms. 
Names  must  be  assigned  to  those  qualities  jis  considered  ab- 
stractedly, which  never  subsist  independently,  or  by  them- 
selves, but  which  constitute  the  generic  characters  and  the 
specific  difi"erences  of  things.  And  this  leads  to  a  manner 
which  is  in  many  instances  remote  from  the  common  use  of 
speech,  and  therefore  must  be  of  more  difficult  conception.'' 
(Book  II.,  sect.  2,  pp.  102,  103.) 

It  is  truly  to  be  regretted  that  an  author  who  has  written 


APPENDIX    [m].  415 

SO  justly  on  tlie  subject,  should  within  a  few  pages  so  strik- 
ingly exemplify  the  errors  he  has  been  treating  of,  by  indulg- 
ing in  a  declamation  against  Logic,  which  could  not  even  to 
himself  have  conveyed  any  distinct  meaning.  When  he 
says  that  a  man  who  has  learned  Logic  was  ''qualified,  with- 
out any  other  kind  of  knowledge,  to  defend  any  position 
whatever,  however  contradictory  to  common  sense;"  and 
that  '*  that  art  observed  the  most  absolute  indifference  to 
truth  and  error,''  he  cannot  mean  that  a  false  conclusion 
could  be  logically  proved  from  true  premises ;  since,  ignorant 
as  he  was  of  the  subject,  he  was  aware,  and  has  in  another 
place  distinctly  acknowledged,  that  this  is  not  the  case ; 
nor  could  he  mean  merely  that  a  false  conclusion  could  be 
proved  from  a  false  premiss,  since  that  would  evidently  be  a 
nugatory  and  ridiculous  objection.  He  seems  to  have  had, 
in  truth,  no  meaning  at  all;  though,  like  the  authors  he  had 
been  so  ably  criticizing,  he  was  perfectly  unaware  of  the 
emptiness  of  what  he  was  saying. 


[M.]    Part  IIL,  Cha'p.  ii.,  §  8^.  276. 

"  Moses  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  the  waters  were 
divided,  and  became  a  wall  unto  the  children  of  Israel,  on 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left.  Moses  smote  the  rock  with 
his  rod,  and  the  waters  flowed  withal,  and  the  children  of 
Israel  were  refreshed  in  the  wilderness,  and  were  saved  from 
death.  But  what  was  there  in  the  arm  of  Moses,  that  the 
sea  should  obey  it  and  stand  still  ?  Or  what  in  the  rod  of 
Moses,  that  it  should  turn  the  flinty  rock  into  a  living  foun- 
tain ?  Let  me  freely,  though  reverently,  speak  to  j'^ou  of  the 
patriarch  Moses.  He  was  indeed  great,  because  he  was  in- 
deed good,  in  his  generation.  But  except  in  the  matter  of 
his  goodness — except  in  his  superior  faith  and  trust  in  his 
Maker — except  in  his  more  ready  obedience  to  the  holy  de- 
sires which  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  inspired  into  his  soul,  he 
was  no  more  than  the  rest  of  the  Israelites,  and  the  rest  of 
men.  Like  them,  like  us,  like  every  human  being  that  is 
born  of  woman,  he  was  compassed  with  infirmities,  and  tried 
with  afflictions,  and  subject  to  error,  and  surrounded  with 
sorrow.     Of  himself  he  was  able  to  do  nothing,  but  all  the 


416      ,  APPENDIX    [n]. 

mighty  acts  wliicli  he  did,  lie  did  because  ^  it  was  God  which 
worked  in  him  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure/ 
and  because  Moses  did  not  resist  the  will  of  God,  or  neglect 
or  abuse  the  power  with  which  he  was  endued.  If  to  the 
Jew  God  was  very  liberal,  we  have  the  promise  of  his  be- 
loved Son,  that  to  Christians,  in  all  spiritual  and  necessary 
things,  he  will  be  still  more  so.  Over  the  world  without  us 
he  will  perhaps  give  us  no  power — because  we  are  not  called 
upon  to  save  a  people.  But  we  are  called  upon  to  save  our- 
selves, and  he  loill  give  us  a  power  over  the  rebellious  world 
that  is  within  us.  Stretch  forth  but  your  hands  in  faith  and 
sincerity  to  God,  and  surely  he  will  separate  between  you 
and  your  lusts.  He  will  divide  the  tumultuous  sea  of  your 
passions,  and  open  for  you  a  way  to  escape  from  your  ene- 
mies into  the  land  of  eternity.  He  will  cause  the  waves 
thereof  to  stand  still  and  harmless  on  your  right  hand  and 
on  your  left,  and  make  you  to  walk  in  safety  and  unhurt 
through  the  overflowings  of  ungodliness,  which,  without  his 
controlling  arm,  would  have  drowned  your  souls  in  perdition 
and  destruction.  Be  ye  never  so  faint  and  weary  in  the  wil- 
derness of  sin,  yet  if  in  humility  you  smite  upon  your 
breast,  and  say,  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner !  he  will  melt 
the  stony  heart  within  you,  and  turning  it  into  a  fountain  of 
piety  and  love — of  love  to  man  and  love  to  your  Maker — 
refresh  you  with  the  living  waters  of  the  comfort  of  the 
Spirit,  and  strengthen  you  by  its  power  for  your  pilgrimage 
through  life." — Benson's  First  Course  of  Hulsean  Lectures 
for  1820.     Lect.  XIV.,  pp.  344-346. 

[N.]    Part  lY.,  Chap,  ii.,  §  2,  p.  312. 

"  For  the  benefit  of  those  who  are  desirous  of  getting  over 
their  bad  habits,  and  discharging  that  important  part  of  the 
sacred  office,  the  reading  the  Liturgy,  with  due  decorum, 
I  shall  first  enter  into  a  minute  examination  of  some  parts 
of  the  service,  and  afterwards  deliver  the  rest  accompanied 
by  such  marks  as  will  enable  the  reader  in  a  short  time, 
and  with  moderate  pains,  to  make  himself  master  of  the 
whole. 

"  But  first  it  will  be  necessary  to  explain  the  marks  which 
you  will  hereafter  see  throughout  the  rest  of  this  course. 


APPENDIX    [n].  417 

They  arc  of  two  kinds  :  one,  to  point  out  the  empliatic 
words,  for  which  I  shall  use  the  grave  accent  of  the 
Greek  [^]. 

'^^  The  other  to  point  out  the  different  pauses  or  stops  •  for 
which  I  shall  use  the  following  marks :  ' 

"For  the  shortest  pause,  making  an  incomplete  line 
thus  '.  ^  ' 

"  For  the  second,  double  the  time  of  the  former,  two  " 

"And  for  the  third,  or  full  stop,  three  '". 
^    "When  I  would  mark  a  pause  longer  than  any  belonj?- 
mg  to  the  usual  stops,  it  shall  be  by  two  horizontal  lines,  as 
thus  =. 

"  When  I  would  point  out  a  syllable  that  is  to  be  dwelt  on 
some  time,  I  shall  use  this  -,  or  a  short  horizontal  over  the 
syllable. 

"  When  a  syllable  should  be  rapidly  uttered,  thus  ^,  or  a 
curve  turned  upwards  :  the  usual  marks  of  long  and  short  in 
Prosody. 

"The  Exhortation  I  have  often  heard  delivered  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner : 

"^Dearly  beloved  brethren,  the  Scripture  moveth  us  in 
sundry  places  to  acknowledge  and  confess  our  manifold  sins 
and  wickedness.  And  that  we  should  not  dissemble  nor 
cloke  them  before  the  face  of  Almighty  God  our  Heavenly 
Father,  but  confess  them  with  an  humble  lowly  penitent 
and  obedient  heart,  to  the  end  that  we  may  obtain,  forgiveness 
of  the  same,  by  his  infinite  goodness  and  mercy.  And 
although  we  ought  at  i\ll  times  humbly  to  acknowledge  our 
sins  before  God,  yet  ought  we  most  chiefly  so  to  do,  when  we 
assemble  and  meet  together.  To  render  thinks  for  the  great 
benefits  we  have  received  at  his  hands,  to  set  forth  his  most 
worthy  praise,  to  hear  his  most  holy  word,  and  to  ask  those 
things  that  are  requisite  and  necessary,  as  well  for  the  body 
as  the  soul.  Wherefore  I  pray  and  beseech  you,  as  many  as 
are  here  present,  to  accompany  me  with  a  pure  heart  and 
humble  voice  to  the  throne  of  the  heavenly  o-race,  savino- 
after  me.'  "^  "^       >     J'    o 

"In  the  latter  part  of  the  first  period,  ^but  confess  them 

witb  an  humble  lowly  penitent  and  obedient  heart,  to  the  end 

that  we  may  obtain,  forgiveness  of  the  same,  by  his  infinite 

goodness  and  mercy,',  there  are  several  faults  committed.     In 

14 


418  APPENDIX  [n]. 

the  first  place,  the  four  epithets  preceding  the  word  ^  heart' 
are  huddled  together,  and  pronounced  in  a  monotone,  dis- 
agreeable to  the  ear,  and  enervating  to  the  sense ;  whereas 
each  word,  rising  in  force  above  the  other,  ought  to  be  marked 
by  a  proportional  rising  of  the  notes  in  the  voice ;  and,  in  the 
last,  there  should  be  such  a  note  used  as  would  declare  it  at 
the  same  time  to  be  the  last — 'with  an  humble  lowly'  peni- 
tent' and  obedient  heart,'  etc.  At  first  view  it  may  appear 
that  the  words  'humble'  and 'lowly' are  synonymous;  but 
the  word  'lowly'  certainly  implies  a  greater  degree  of  humil- 
iation than  the  word  'humble.'  The  word  'penitent'  that 
follows,  is  of  stronger  import  than  either ;  and  the  word  '  obe- 
dient,' signifying  a  perfect  resignation  to  the  will  of  Grod,  in 
consequence  of  our  humiliation  and  repentance,  furnishes  the 
climax.  But  if  the  climax  in  the  words  be  not  accompanied 
by  a  suitable  climax  in  the  notes  of  the  voice,  it  cannot  be 
made  manifest.  In  the  following  part  of  the  sentence,  'to 
the  6nd  that  we  may  obtain'  forgiveness  of  the  skme,'  there 
are  usually  three  emphases  laid  on  the  words,  end,  obtain, 
same,  where  there  should  not  be  any,  and  the  only  emphatic 
word,  forgiveness,  is  slightly  passed  over ;  whereas  it  should 
be  read — '  to  the  end  that  we  may  obtain  forgiveness  of  the 
same,'  keeping  the  words  obtain  and  forgiveness  closely  to- 
gether, and  not  disuniting  them,  both  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
sense  and  cadence,  etc.,  etc. 

"I  shall  now  read  the  whole,  in  the  manner  I  have  recom- 
mended )  and  if  you  will  give  attention  to  the  marks,  you  will 
be  reminded  of  the  manner,  when  you  come  to  practice  in 
your  private  reading.  '  Dearly  beloved  brethren  !  =z  The 
Scripture  moveth  us'  in  sundry  places'  to  acknowledge  and 
confess  our  manifold  sins  and  wickedness,  and  that  we  should 
not  dissemble  nor  cloke  them'  before  the  face  of  Almighty 
Grod'  our  Heavenly  Father"  but  confess  them'  with  an  hum- 
ble' lowly'  penitent'  and  obedient  heart'  to  the  end  that  we 
may  obtain  forgiveness  of  the  same'  by  his  infinite  goodness 
and  mercy'".  And  although  we  ought  at  all  times'  humbly 
to  acknowledge  our  sins  before  God"  yet  ought  we  most  chiefly 
so  to  do  when  we  assemble  and  meet  together'  to  render  thanks' 
for  the  great  benefits  we  have  received  at  his  hands"  to  set 
forth'  his  most  worthy  praise"  to  h^ar'  his  most  holy  word' 
and  to  ask  those  things'  which  are  requisite  and  necessary'  as 


APPENDIX    [n].  419 

well  for  the  body'  as  the  soul'".  Wherefore  I  pray  and  be- 
seech yoii  as  miiny  as  are  here  present'  to  accompany  me  with 
a  pure  heart'  and  humble  voice  to  the  throne  of  the  heavenly 
grac6,  saying/  etc/' — Sheridan,  Art  of  Reading  Pilose. 

The  generality  of  the  remarks  respecting  the  way  in  which 
each  passage  of  the  Liturgy  should  be  read,  are  correct; 
though  the  mode  recommended  for  attaining  the  proposed 
end  is  totally  different  from  what  is  suggested  in  the  present 
treatise.  In  some  points,  however,  the  author  is  mistaken  as 
to  the  emphatic  words  :  e.  g.,  in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  he  directs 
the  following  passage  to  be  read  thus :  "thy  will'  b^  done  on 
earth'  as  it  is'  in  heaven,"  with  the  emphasis  on  the  words 
"be"  and  "is;"  these,  however,  are  not  the  emphatic  words, 
and  do  not  even  exist  in  the  original  Greek,  but  are  supplied 
by  the  translator ;  the  latter  of  them  might,  indeed,  be  omit- 
ted altogether  without  any  detriment  to  the  sense  :  "thy  will 
be  done,  as  in  heaven,  so  also  on  earth,"  which  is  a  more 
literal  translation,  is  perfectly  intelligible. 

A  passage,  again,  in  the  second  Commandment,  he  directs 
to  be  read,  according  indeed  to  the  usual  mode,  both  of  read- 
ing and  pointing  it :  "Visit  the  sins  of  the  fathers'  upon  the 
children'  unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that 
hate  me ;"  which  mode  of  reading  destroys  the  sense,  by 
making  a  pause  at  "children,"  and  none  at  "generation;" 
for  this  implies  that  the  third  and  fourth  generations,  who 
suffer  these  judgments,  are  themselves  such  as  hate  the  Lord, 
instead  of  being  merely,  as  is  meant  to  be  expressed,  the 
children  of  such.  "  Of  them  that  hate  me,"  is  a  genitive 
governed  not  by  "generation,"  but  by  "children."  The 
passage  should  therefore  be  read,  (according  to  Sheridan's 
marks,)  "  Visit  the  sins  of  the  fathers'  upon  the  children  unto 
the  third  and  fourth  generation'  of  them  that  hate  me :"  i.  e., 
visit  the  sins  of  the  fathers  who  hate  me,  upon  the  third  and 
fourth  generations  of  their  descendants. 

The  same  sanction  is  given  to  an  equally  common  fault  in 
reading  the  fifth  Commandment :  "that  thy  days  may  be  long 
in  the  land'  which  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth  thee."  The 
pause  should  evidently  be  at  "  long/'  not  at "  land.''  ,  No  one 
would  say  in  ordinary  conversation,  "  I  hope  you  will  find  en- 
joyment in  the  garden' — which  you  have  planted."  He  has 
also  strangely  omitted  an  emphasis  on  the  word  "covet,"  in 


420  APPENDIX    [n]. 

the  tenth  Commandment.  He  has,  however,  in  the  negative 
or  prohibitory  commands,  avoided  the  common  fault  of  ac- 
centing the  word  ^'not/'^ 

And  here  it  may  be  worth  while  to  remark,  that  in  some 
cases  the  copula  ought  to  be  made  the  emphatic  word ;  (i.  e., 
the  "is,"  if  the  proposition  be  affirmative,  the  "not,"  if  nega- 
tive;) viz.,  where  the  proposition  maybe  considered  as  in  op- 
position to  its  contradictor y.'\  If,  e.  g.,  it  had  been  a  ques- 
tion whether  we  ought  to  steal  or  not,  the  commandment,  in 
answer  to  that,  would  have  been  rightly  pronounced,  "Thou 
shalt  not  steal  •"  but  the  question  being,  lohat  things,  we  are 
forbidden  to  do,  the  answer  is,  that "'  to  steal"  is  one  of  them — 
"Thou  shalt  not  stealJ'  In  such  a  case  as  this,  the  proposi- 
tion is  considered  as  opposed,  not  to  its  contradictory,  but  to 
one  with  a  different  predicate  ;  the  question  being,  not  which 
copula  (negative  or  affirmative)  shall  be  employed,  but  luhat 
shall  be  affirmed  or  denied  of  the  subject :  e.  g.,  "it  is  lawful 
to  heg ;  but  not  to  steal;"  in  such  a  case,  the  predicate^  not 
the  cojmla,  will  be  the  emphatic  word. 

One  fault  worth  noticing  on  account  of  its  commonness  is 
the  placing  of  the  emphasis  on  "neighbor"  in  the  ninth  and 
tenth  Commandments;  as  if  there  might  be  some  persons 
precluded  from  the  benefit  of  the  prohibitions.  One  would 
think  the  man  to  whom  our  Lord  addressed  the  parable  of 
the  good  Samaritan,  had  been  used  to  this  mode  of  delivery, 
by  his  asking,  "And  who  is  my  neighbor  ?"% 

The  usual  pronunciation  of  one  part  of  the  "Apostles' 
Creed,"  is  probably  founded  on  some  misapprehension  of  the 
sense  of  it.§     "The  Holy  Catholic  Church,  the  Communion 


*  Dr.  Johnson,  in  Boswell's  Life,  is  recorded  to  have  sanctioned 
this  fault,  in  respect  at  least  of  the  ninth  Commandment. 

f  Nor  is  this  properly  an  exception  to  the  above  rule ;  for,  in  such 
cases,  that  -which  is  expressed  as  the  copula,  is,  in  sense,  the  predi-  ^ 
cate;  the  question  being  in  fact  whether  "true"  or  "false"  shall  be 
predicated  of  a  certain  'assertion. 

X  I  have  heard  again  of  some  persons  among  the  lower  orders  who, 
practically,  lay  the  stress  on  "against;"  thinking  it  allowable  to 
give  false* evidence  in  any  one's  favor.  ^ 

I  See  Sir  Peter  (afterwards  Lord)  King's  History  of  the  Apostles 
Creed;  a  work  much  more  valuable  (in  proportion  to  its  size)  than 
most  that  are  studied  by  theologians. 


APPENDIX   [o].^^  421 

of  Saints/'  is  commonly  read  as  if  these  were"  two  distinct 
articles ;  instead  of  the  latter  clause  being  merely  an  explana- 
tion of  the  former:  ''The  Holy  Catholic  Church,  [viz.  J  the 
Communion  of  Saints/' 

[0.]    Part  IV.,  Chap,  ii.,  §  5,  p.  322. 

"It  need  hardly  be  observed  how  important  it  is,  with  a 
view  to  these  objects,"  (the  training  of  children  in  sound  and 
practical  religious  knowledge,)  "  to  abstain  carefully  from  the 
practice,  still  too  prevalent,  though  much  less  so,  we  believe, 
than  formerly,  of  compelling,  or  encouraging,  or  even  allow- 
ing children  to  learn  hy  rote,  forms  of  prayer,  catechisms, 
hymns,  or,  in  short,  any  thing  connected  with  morality  and 
religion,  when  they  attach  no  meaning  to  the  words  they 
utter. 

"It  is  done  on  the  plea  that  they  will  hereafter  learn  the 
meaning  of  what  they  have  been  thus  taught,  and  will  be 
able  to  make  a  practical  use  of  it.  But  no  attempt  at  econ- 
omy of  time  can  be  more  injudicious.  Let  any  child  whose 
capacity  is  so  far  matured  as  to  enable  him  to  comprehend  an 
explanation,  e.  g.,  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  have  it  then  put  be- 
fore him  for  the  first  time,  and,  when  he  is  made  acquainted 
with  the  meaning  of  it,  set  to  learn  it  by  heart ;  and  can  any 
one  doubt  that  in  less  than  half  a  day's  application  he  would 
be  able  to  repeat  it  fluently  ? '  And  the  same  would  be  the 
case  with  other  forms.  All  that  is  learnt  by  rote  by  a  child 
before  he  is  competent  to  attach  a  meaning  to  the  words  he 
utters,  would  not,  if  all  put  together,  amount  to  so  much  as 
would  cost  him,  when  able  to  understand  it,  a  week's  labor 
to  learn  perfectly.  But  it  may  cost  the  toil — often  the  vain 
toil — of  many  years,  to  unlearn  the  habit  of  formalism :  of 
repeating  words  by  rote  without  attending  to  their  meaning ; 
a  habit  which  every  one  conversant  with  education  knows  to 
be,  in  all  subjects,  most  readily  acquired  by  children,  and 
with  difficulty  avoided,  even  with  the  utmost  care  of  the 
teacher ;  but  which  such  a  plan  must  inevitably  tend  to  gen- 
erate. 

"It  is  pften  said,  and  very  truly,  that  it  is  important  to 
form  early  habits  of  piety ;  but  to  train  a  child  in  one  kind 
of  habit,  is  not  the  most  likely  way  of  "forming  the  opposite 


422  ^APPENDIX    [O]. 

habit ;  and  nothing  can  be  more  contrary  to  true  piety  than 
the  superstition  (for  such  in  fact  it  is)  of  attaching  efl&cacy 
to  the  repetition  of  a  certain  form  of  words,  as  of  a  charm, 
independent  of  the  understanding  and  of  the  heart.* 

^^It  is  also  said,  with  equal  truth,  that  we  ought  to  take 
advantage  of  the  facility  which  children  possess  of  learning 
words ;  but  to  infer  from  thence  that  Providence  designs  us 
to  make  such  a  use  (or  rather  abuse)  of  this  gift  as  we  have 
been  censuring,  is  as  if  we  were  to  take  advantage  of  the 
readiness  with  which  a  new-born  babe  swallows  whatever  is 
put  into  its  mouth,  to  dose  it  with  ardent  spirits,  instead  of 
wholesome  food  and  necessary  medicine.  The  readiness  with 
which  children  learn  and  remember  words,  is  in  truth  a  most 
important  advantage,  if  rightly  employed;  viz.,  if  applied  to 
the  acquiring  of  that  mass  of  what  may  be  called  arbitrary 
knowledge  of  insulated  facts,  which  can  only  be  acquired  and 


*  "We  have  spoken  with  so  much  commendation  of  the  Hints  on 
Early  Education,  [Mrs.  Hoare's,]  that  we  feel  bound  to  notice  inci- 
dentally a  point  in  which  we  think  the  author,  if  not  herself  mistaken, 
is  likely  to  lead  her  readers  into  a  mistake :  '  Public  Worship. — Si- 
lence,' says  the  author,  'self-subjection,  and  a  serious  deportment, 
both  in  family  and  public  worship,  ought  to  be  strictly  enforced  in 
early  life,  and  it  is  better  that  children  should  not  attend  till  they 
are  capable  of  behaving  in  a  proper  manner.  But  a  practical  regard 
for  the  Sabbath,  and  for  the  services  of  religion,  is  but  an  effect  of 
that  reverence  for  every  thing  sacred  which  it  is  of  primary  import- 
ance early  to  establish  as  a  hahit  of  mind.' — Pp.  172,  173. 

"Now  if  'reverence  for  things  sacred'  be  the  only  habit  we  wish 
to  implant,,  the  caution  here  given  is  sufficient ;  but  if  we  would  form 
in  the  child  the  much  more  important  habit  of  hearty  devotion  as 
distinguished  from  superstitious  formalism,  we  should  wait  for  his 
being  not  only  'capable  of  behaving'  with  outward  decorum,  but  also 
of  understanding  and  joining  in  the  service. 

"We  would  also  deprecate,  by  the  way,  the  practice  (which  this 
writer  seems  to  countenance,  though  without  any  express  inculcation) 
of  strictly  prohibiting  children  from  indulging  in  their  usual  sports 
on  the  Lord's  day ;  which  has  a  manifest  tendency  to  associate  with 
that  festival  ideas  of  gloom  and  restraint ;  and  also  to  generate  the 
too  common  notion  that  God  requires  of  us  only  one  day  in  seven, 
and  that  scrupulous  privation  on  that  day  will  afford  license  for  the 
rest  of  the  week.  We  are  speaking,  be  it  observed,  of  the  Christian 
festival  of  the  Lord's  day.  Those  who  think  themselves  bound  by  the 
precepts  of  the  Old  Testament  relative  to  the  Sabbath,  should  re- 
member that  Saturday  is  the  day  to  which  those  precepts  apply." 


APPENDIX    [GG].  423 

retained  by  a  mere  act  of  memory,  and  which  is  necessary  in 
after-life;  when  the  acquisition  of  it  would  both  be  more 
troublesome,  and  would  encroach  on  time  that  might  other- 
wise be  better  employed.  Chronology,  names  of  countries, 
weights  and  measures,  and  indeed  all  the  ivords  of  any  lan- 
guage, are  of  this  description.  If  a  child  had  even  ten  times 
the  ordinary  degree  of  the  faculty  in  question,  a  judicious 
teacher  would  find  abundance  of  useful  employment  for  it, 
without  resorting  to  any  that  could  possibly  be  detrimental 
to  his  future  habits,  moral,  religious,  or  intellectual." — Lon- 
don Review  J  1829,  No.  II.,  Art.  V.,  "Juvenile  Library,"  pp. 
412,  413. 

[GG.]    Part  II.,  Chap,  i.,  §  1,  p.  168. 

"  So  great  is  the  outcry  which  it  has  been  the  fashion 
among  some  persons  for  several  years  past  to  raise  against 
expediency,  that  the  very  word  has  become  almost  an  ill- 
omened  sound.  It  seems  to  be  thought  by  many  a  suflficient 
ground  of  condemnation  of  any  legislator  to  say  that  he  is 
guided  by  views  of  expediency.  And  some  seem  even  to  be 
ashamed  of  acknowledging  that  they  are  in  any  degree  so 
guided.  I,  for  one,  however,  am  content  to  submit  to  the 
imputation  of  being  a  votary  of  expediency.  And  what  is 
more,  I  do  not  see  what  right  any  one  who  is  not  so  has  to 
sit  in  Parliament,  or  to  take  any  part  in  public  affairs.  Any 
one  who  may  choose  to  acknowledge  that  the  measures  he 
opposes  are  expedient,  or  that  those  he  recommends  are  in- 
expedient, ought  manifestly  to  have  no  seat  in  a  deliberative 
assembly,  which  is  constituted  for  the  express  and  sole  pur- 
pose of  considering  what  measures  are  Conducive  to  the  public 
good ;  in  other  words,  ^  expedient.^  I  say,  the  ^public  good^ 
because,  of  course,  by  ^  expediency'  we  mean,  not  that  whicli 
may  benefit  some  individual,  or  some  party  or  class  of  men, 
at  the  expense  of  the  public,  but  what  conduces  to  the  good 
of  the  nation.  Now  this,  it  is  evident,  is  the  very  object  for 
which  deliberative  assemblies  are  constituted.  And  so  far  is 
this  from  being  regarded,  by  our  Church  at  least,  as  some- 
thing at  variance  with  religious  duty,  that  we  have  a  prayer 
specially  appointed  to  be  offered  up  during  the  sitting  of  the 
Houses  of  Parliament,  that  their  consultations  may  be  ^  di- 


424  APPENDIX   [go]. 

rected  and  prospered  for  the  safeti/,  honoVy  and  welfare  of 
our  sovereign  and  her  dominions.'  Now,  if  this  be  not  the 
very  definition  of  political  expediency,  let  any  one  say  what  is. 

"  But  some  persons  are  so  much  at  variance  with  the  doc- 
trine of  our  Church  on  this  point — and  I  may  add,  with  all 
sound  moralists — as  to  speak  of  expediency  as  something  that 
is,  or  may  be,  at  variance  with  duti/.  If  any  one  really 
holds  that  it- can  ever  be  expedient  to  violate  the  injunctions 
of  duty — that  he  who  does  so  is  not  sacrificing  a  greater  good 
to  a  less,  (which  all  would  admit  to  be  inexpedient,) — that  it 
can  be  really  advantageous  to  do  what  is  morally  wrong — and 
will  come  forward  and  acknowledge  that  to  be  his  belief,  I 
have  only  to  protest,  for  my  own  part,  with  the  deepest  ab- 
horrence, against  what  I  conceive  to  be  so  profligate  a  prin- 
ciple. It  shocks  all  the  notions  of  morality  that  I  have  been 
accustomed  from  childhood  to  entertain,  to  speak  of  expe- 
diency being  possibly  or  conceivably  opposed  to  rectitude. 

'^  There  are  indeed  many  questions  of  expediency  in  which 
morality  has  no  concern,  one  way  or  the  other.  In  what  way, 
for  example,  a  husbandman  should  cultivate  his  field,  or  in 
what  branch  of  trade  a  merchant  should  invest  his  capital, 
are  questions  of  expediency  in  which  there  is  usually  no 
moral  right  or  wrong  on  either  side.  But  where  there  is 
moral  right  and  wrong,  it  can  never  be  expedient  to  choose  the 
wrong.  If  the  husbandman  or  the  merchant  should  seek  to 
gain  increased  profits  by  defrauding  his  neighbor,  this  would 
be  at  variance  with  expediency,  because  it  would  be  sacri- 
ficing a  greater  good  to  a  less.  ^  For  what  would  it  profit  a 
man  if  he  should  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own 
soul?' 

"  I  believe,  however,  that  the  greater  part  of  those  who 
raise  a  clamor  against  expediency  mean,  in  reality,  an  apj)a- 
rent,  but  false  and  delusive  expediency— that  which  is  repre- 
sented as  expedient,  but  in  truth  is  not  so.  But  if  this  be 
their  meaning,  it  would  surely  be  better,  with  a  view  to  cut- 
ting short  empty  declamation,  and  understanding  clearly 
whatever  matter  is  under  discussion,  that  they  should  ex- 
press, distinctly,  and  according  to  the  ordinary  use  of  lan- 
guage, what  they  do  mean.  It  would  be  thought  absurd  for 
a  man  to  declaim  against  ^  virtue,'  and  then  at  length  to  ex- 
plain that  what  he  meant  was  not  real  virtue,  but  a  hypo- 


APPENDIX   [gg].  425 

critical  semblance  of  it ;  or  to  argue  against  the  use  of '  coin/ 
meaning  all  the  time,  not  real  genuin'e  coin,  but "  fraudulent 
counterfeits.  And  sure  it  is  not  at  all  more  reasonable  for 
any  one  to  declaim  against  ^  expediency/  if  what  he  means 
be,  not  what  is  really  expedient,  but  what  is  erroneously  mis- 
taken for  it."— C^ar^e  0/ 1845. 


INDEX 

TO  SOME  OP  THE  PRINCIPAL  WORDS. 


Ability,  dreaded  by  a  certain  class  of  persons,  Part  II.,  ch.  iii.,  ^  2. 

Accessible  arguments,  to  the  unlearned,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  8. 

Action,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iv.,  ^6. 

Adversaries,  testimony  of,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  4. 

Advice  to  a  reviewer,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  7. 

Advocate,  office  of,  P.  I.,  ch.  i.,  §  1. 

,  endeavor  of,  to  convince  us  that  he  thinks  what  he  says, 

P.  II.,  ch.  iii.,  §  3. 

-,  habits  formed  by  the  occupation,  P.  II.,  ch.  iii.,  §  5. 


Allegory,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  |  3. 

Analogy,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  7. 

Antiquarians,  estimate  of  their  authority,  P.  II.,  ch.  in.,  §  5. 

Antithesis,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  14. 

Approach,  argument  by,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  6. 

A  priori  argument,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  2. 

Argument,  distinguished  from  proposition,  P.  I.,  ch.  i.,  ^  3. 

,  satisfactory  and  compulsory,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  1. 

Aristotle,  his  definition  of  Rhetoric,  Introd.,  ^  4. 

,  his  distinction  between  real  and  invented  example,  P.  I., 

ch.  ii.,  $  8. 
Arrangement  of  arguments,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  4. 

of  words,  P.  III.,  ch^  i.,  §  3,  and  ch.  ii.,  ^  11. 

Arrogance,  what,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  2. 

Articles,  how  to  be  interpreted  when  drawn  up  by  an  assembly,  P.  I., 

ch.  iii.,  g  2. 
Assembly,  documents  proceeding  from,  how  to  be  interpreted,  P.  I., 

ch.  iii.,  §  2. 
Bashfulness,  in  public  speaking,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iii.,  ^§  7,  8. 
Belief,  coincident  with  disbelief,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  5. 
Benson,  extract  from.  Appendix,  [M.] 
Burden  of  proof,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  2. 
Burke,  extract  from,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  8. 
Butler,  Bishop,  his  style,  P.  III.,  ch.  iii.,  §  2. 
Campbell,  Dr.,  extracts  from,  Appendix,  [D,]  and  [H.] 
Catlin,  his  account  of  the  Mandan  Indians,  Appendix,  [DDD.] 
Cause,  argument  from,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  2. 
.  ^  (427) 


428  INDEX. 

Chances,  calculation  of,  P.  L,  ch.  ii.,  ^§  4,  5. 
Character,  of  speaker,  P.  II.,  ch.  i.,  §  3,  and  ch.  iii.,  ^  1. 

,  of  persons  to  be  addressed,  P.  II., ^ch.  iii.,  |  1. 

Cicero,  omits  to  state  when  and  why  he  begin^  with  his  proofs,  P.  I., 

ch.  iii.,  ^  5. 
Climax,  use  of,  P.  II.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  4. 
Common  Sense,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  6. 

,  when  apt  to  be  laid  aside,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  6. 

Comparison,  use  of,  in  exciting  any  feeling,  P.  II.,  ch.  ii.,  g  4. 

,  or  simile,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  |  3. 

Composition,  fallacy  of,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  |  4. 

Conciseness,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  7. 

Conclusion,  when  to  come  first,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  5. 

Conscious  manner,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iv.,  §  2,  p.  340,  note. 

Consistency,  mistakes  respecting,  P.  II.,  ch.  iii.,  §  5. 

Conviction,  distinguished  from  persuasion,  P.  II.,  ch.  i.,  ^  1. 

Copleston,  Bishop,  on  Analogy,  Appendix,  [E.] 

,  Letter  of  Lord  Dudley,  P.  L,  ch.  iii.,  ^  2. 

,  his  share  in  reviving   the  study  of  Logic,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii., 

I  2. 
Council,  joint  compositions  of,  how  to  be  interpreted,  P.  I,,  ch.  iii.. 

Credulity,  coincident  with  incredulity,  P.  L,  ch.  ii.,  §  5. 

Crowded  style,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  9. 

Debating  Societies,  advantages  and  disadvantages  of.  In  trod.,  ^  6. 

Deference,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  2. 

Delivery,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iv.,  |  1. 

Dickinson,  Bishop,  <' Remains"  of,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  7. 

Direct  Argument,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  1,  and  ch.  iii.,  |  6. 

Diversion  of  feelings,  P.  II.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  6. 

Dividing  a  question,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  4. 

Doubt,  opposite  to  what,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  5. 

Dudley,  Lord,  his  statement  of  a  presumption  against  logical  studies, 

P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  g  2. 
Edinburgh  Review,  extracts  from,  Introd.,  §  6,  and  Appendix,  [F.] 
Effect,  argument  from,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  3. 
Elegance  of  style,  P.  III.,  ch.  iii.,  |^  1,  2. 
Eloquence,  reputation  for,  its  consequences,  P.  II.,  ch.  iii.,  §  2. 
Emphasis,  P.  IV.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  2. 
Energy  of  style,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  1,  etc. 
Envy,  hard  to  be  counteracted,  P.  II.,  ch.  iii.,  §  1. 
Epithets,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,^  4. 
Example,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  6. 

,  corresponding  to  a  geometrical  diagram,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  7. 

Exercises,  Introd.,  §  5. 

Expediency,  true  character  of,  P.  II.,  ch.  i.,  §  2,  and  Appendix, 

[QG.] 
Experience,  argument  from,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  6. 
,  authority  derived  from,  P.  II.,  ch.  iii.,  §  5. 


INDEX.  429 

Extempore  speaking,  character  of,  P.  IV.,  ch.  i.,  §  3. 

prayers,  apt  to  be  delivered  not  as  prayers,  P.  IV    ch 

n.,  §  3,  note.  ''      ' 

Fable,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  8. 

Fact,  matters  of,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  3  4,  and  ch.  iii.,  2  3. 
Fallacies,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  ^7. 
Fathers,  appeal  to  their  testimony,  sometimes  gives  an  advantage  in 

the  eyes  of  the  multitude  to  the  worst  cause,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  8. 
Feelings,  apt  to  fall  short  of  what  the  occasion  calls  for,  P.  II, ,  ch!  i., 

Fine  delivery,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iii.,  §  4. 
Free-trade,  questions  relatine;  to,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.    3  7 
Gender,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  2.  ^    ' 

General  terms,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  1. 

Good- will,  essential  to  the  speaker's  character,  P.  II.,  ch   iii    2  3 
Hampden,  Bampton  Lecture,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  G.  ' 

Hinds,  Dr.,  extracts  from.  Appendix,  [D.] 
Historic  doubts,  referred  to,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  7. 
Illustration,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  7,  and  ch.  iii.,  a  3. 
ImaginatijBn,  P.  II.,  ch.  i.,  ^  2. 
Imitation,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  5. 

Inconsistency,  P.  II.,  ch.  iii.,  g  5.  ' 

Indirect  argument,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  1,  and  ch.  iii.,  2  7. 
Induction,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  ^6. 

Ingenuity,  liability  to  be  misled  by  one's  own,  P.  II.,  ch.  i.,  $  2 
Instruction,  distinguished  from  Conviction  strictly  so  called   P  I 
ch.  1.,  §  I.  ^  )     '    •> 

Integrity,  of  the  speaker's  character,  P.  II.,  ch.  iii.,  §  3. 
Intellect,  dreaded  by  some  persons,  P.  II.,  ch  iii     2  2 
Interrogation,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  15.  '' 

Ironical  form,  P.  L,  ch.  iii.,  ^  7. 
Johnson,  Dr.,  style  of,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  g  8. 
Language,  a  necessary  instrument  of  reasoning,  Introd.,  2  4 
Loose  sentences,  P.  IIL,  ch.  ii.,  $  12.  '  is    •       . 

Ludicrous,  a  refuted  sophism  often  becomes  so,  P.  L,  ch.  iii    2  7 
Mandan  Indians,  rashly  assumed  to  have  raised  themselves  from  the 

savage  state,  Appendix,  [DDD.] 
Manifesto,  see  Council. 

Mathematics,  contempt  formerly  bestowed  on  the  study,  Introd.,  2  4. 
Metaphor,  P.  IIL,  ch.  ii.,  §  3. 
Metonymy,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  |  3. 
Milman,  extract  from.  Appendix,  [L] 
Milton,  Tiis  opinion  of  exercise  in  composition,  Introd.,  2  5. 
Natural  delivery,  P.  IV.,  chaps,  ii.,  iii.,  etc. 
Natural  representation  liable  to  be  thought  unnatural,  P.  L,  ch.  ii.. 

Negative  probabilities,  P.  L,  ch.  ii.,  2  4. 

Nomination,  Introd.,  ^4. 

Number  of  words,  energy  dependent  on,  P.  IIL,  ch.  ii.,  §  7. 


430  INDEX. 

Oaths,  erroneous  estimate  of  the  value  of,  Appendix,  [DDD.] 

Objections,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  g  7. 

Omissions,  force  of,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  4. 

Opinion,  see  Fact. 

Oratory,  spurious,  P.  III.,  ch.  i.,  §§  4,  5,  6. 

Paley,  Horae  Paulinae,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  g  4,  and  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  ^  1. 

Parable,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  g  7. 

Paradox,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  ^  2. 

Parity  of  reasoning,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  6. 

Party  spirit,  P.  II.,  ch,  iii.,  |  3. 

Passions,  P.  IL,  ch.  i.,  ^  3. 

Pepys,  Bishop,  on  negative  proofs,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  4. 

Periods,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  12. 

Personification,  P.  IL,  ch.  ii,,  g  3. 

Perspicuity,  P.  III.,  ch.  i.,  g  2,  etc. 

Persuasion,  analysis  of,  P.  II. ,  ch.  i.,  |  2. 

Plain,  ambiguity  of  the  word,  P.  III.,  ch.  i.,  §  3. 

Plausible,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  2. 

Plays,  acting  of,  at  schools,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iv.,  §  2. 

Pleader,  see  Advocate. 

Poetry,  characteristic  of,  P.  III.,  ch.  iii.,  §  3. 

Political  Economy,  extract  from  Lectures  on.  Appendix,  [C,]  and 

[DDD.] 
Practice,  in  composition,  Introd.,  ^  5. 
Presumptions,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  2. 
Professions,  Lecture  on,  appended  to  P.  II. 
Prolixity,  P.  IIL,  ch.  i.,  §  2,  and  ch.  ii.,  g  7. 
Proper  terms,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  1. 
Propositions,  to  find,  P.  L,  ch.  i.,  §  3. 
Quarterly  Review,  extract  from,  Appendix,  [B.] 
Ranting,  mistakes  respecting  it,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iii.,  ^  3. 

,  effects  of,  accounted  for,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iv.,  §  1. 

Reading,  P.  IV.,  ch.  i.,  §  3,  and  ch.  iii.,  §  1. 
Recapitulation,  P.  L,  ch.  iii.,  ^  9. 
Recitation,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iv.,  |  2. 
Refutation,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  §  7. 

,  too  forcible,  ^  8. 

Repetition,  conducive  to  perspicuity,  P.  III.,  ch.  i.,  §  2. 

Rhetoric,  why  in  greater  repute  among  the  ancients,  Introd.,  §§  3,  4. 

Rhetorician,  art  of,  practiced  by  a  wise  man  on  himself,  P.  II. ,  ch.  i., 

Ridicule,  how  to  be  employed  and  met,  P.  IL,  ch.  iii.,  ^  6. 
Robinson  Crusoe,  why  apparently  natural,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,.  §  2. 
Rote,  learning  by,  its  effects,  P.  IV.,  ch.  ii.,  |  5. 
Sequence,  physical  and  logical,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  3. 
Sermons,  commonplace,  P.  IIL,  ch.  iii.,  §  2.  ' 

Sheridan,  his  principles  of  elocution,  P.  IV.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  2. 

,  extract  from.  Appendix,  [M.] 

Sign,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  3. 


INDEX.  431 

Simile,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  3. 

Smith,  Adam,  extracts  from,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  3  8,  and  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  2  1, 

and  P.  III.,  ch.  iii.,  H- 
Sound,  imitative,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  5. 
Speaking,  distinguished  from  reading,  P.  IV.,  ch.  i.,  g  3,  and  ch.  iii., 

§  1- 

Spurious  eloquence,  P.  III.,  ch.  i.,  §^  4,  5. 

Subject  for  learners,  Introd.,  §  5. 

Substantives,  excessive  use  of,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  8. 

Suggestive  style,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  9. 

Sympathy,  reflex,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iii.,  ^  8. 

Tautology,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  §  8. 

Technical  terms,  Introd.,  §  4,  and  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  g  6. 

Terence,  tendency  of  the  acting  of  his  plays,  P.  IV.,  ch.  iv.,  ^  2. 

Testimony,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  §  4. 

Theological  style,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  6. 

Tone,  P.  IV.,  ch.  i.,  §  3,  note,  and  ch.  ii.,  §  2. 

Tradition,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  ^  2. 

Tropes,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  2. 

Unlearned,  see  Accessible. 

Unnatural  representations  likely  to  appear  natural,  P.  I.,  ch.  ii.,  ^  2. 

Verbosity,  P.  III.,  ch.  ii.,  |  8. 

Waiving  a  question,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  ^  5. 

Will,  how  influenced,  P.  II.,  ch.  i.,  g  1. 

Williams,  Roger,  one  of  the  earliest  and  soundest  advocates  for  lib- 
erty of  conscience,  P.  I.,  ch.  iii.,  ^  3. 

Wisdom,  as  consisting  in  correct  perception  of  analogies,  P.  L,  ch. 
ii.,  §  7. 

Wolfe,  extracts  from,  Appendix,  [K.] 


THE    END 


